


Let Us Meet Again

by EmptySurface



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: AU?, Adult Kyouya, Can't believe I forgot that one, Canon Compliant, Crossover, F/M, Family, Fem!Harry, How to tag this?, Magic, One Night Stand, Romance, Sort Of, Travel, Unplanned Pregnancy, at least one sexy-time, friends - Freeform, making a go at a relationship, what are tags and how do I use them?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:37:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15744441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptySurface/pseuds/EmptySurface
Summary: “There's a potion we can brew to check. It's more reliable than a muggle test,” she offered after a few seconds.And this was why Harry loved Hermione with all her heart.“I'd like that,” she said weakly.She'd honestly never expected to be a teenage mother, but somehow, Harry beat out her parents in the 'young parent' department. Now she just needed to track down the father to share the news...





	1. How it all began

**Author's Note:**

  * For [worldtravellingfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldtravellingfly/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Was Looking For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748956) by [worldtravellingfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldtravellingfly/pseuds/worldtravellingfly). 



> This story has been gathering dust in my doc folder for over a year. More like two years? I think. Anyway, its existence is owed entirely to Worldtravellingfly. I figured it was time to post some of it.  
> I have way too many fics in my docs that hasn't seen the light of day. :')

"Are you ready?" Ginny asked, leaning against the door-jamb to the bathroom.

"Just about," Harry replied absently as she carefully applied the last of the make-up to her face. “What about Hermione?” she asked, staring intently at her own reflection as she put away the mascara.

“Already downstairs, waiting,” Ginny said with a grin.

Harry sighed, a smile tugging on her lips despite her best efforts to keep up a serious expression.

“Yes, I'm slow,” she said, closing the small handbag Ginny had made her buy the day before, for this very night. “It's difficult to apply make-up with the scar,” she said with a shrug.

Ginny gave a simple nod, acknowledging that the lightning bolt flashing down her face _would_ make things a tad more complicated. Just the act of painting her eyes would turn into an artistic feat, what with the scar tissue intersecting both her eyebrows and eyelids.

“So what is this place we're going?” Harry asked, walking with Ginny down the stairs to the ground floor of Hermione's parent's new house.

“A really fancy club,” Ginny smirked over her shoulder at her, making Harry grimace right back at her. “One of those muggle places you can dance, drink, find a good-looking bloke for a night of fun,” Ginny said airily.

Harry laughed. “Don't let Ron hear you say that,” she warned with a wicked grin. Ron had been sulking enough over this Girl's-night-out thing, as he so gracefully called it. If he thought Hermione might flirt with strange men, he'd have a conniption.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Ron needs to loosen up and trust his bloody girlfriend,” was all she had to say about that. “There's nothing stopping you an' me from having a blast, though.”

Harry very carefully didn't roll _her_ eyes at that.

“Everyone ready?” Hermione asked with an excited smile when they entered the kitchen.

“Yes,” Harry answered, smoothing down the thin, rather flimsy dress she'd let Ginny bully her into buying during yesterday's shopping trip. It was a very dark red, looking almost the same shade as wine, in certain light. Harry was just glad it had a modest cut, and sleeves that went down to her hands.

A pair of stockings masked the worst of the scars on her legs.

“Good!” Hermione jumped up from the chair she'd been sitting in by the kitchen table, her mother giving her a fond smile. “Let's go!”

“I'd think you'd be at least a little more reluctant,” Harry muttered under her breath, making Ginny snigger quietly.

“Oh, shush, you. I've never done this before, and I think it's going to be exciting,” Hermione smiled, striding towards the hallway.

“Have a nice night out, and be careful, love!” Dan, Hermione's father, called from the sitting room as they walked past, looking up from his book.

“Will do, dad!” Hermione called back.

“Have a nice evening, Mr Granger,” Harry added with a smile and then followed her two friends out the door. “How are we even supposed to dance in these shoes?” she asked as they walked down the street towards the bus-stop.

“Harry, I have seen you on a broom,” Ginny snorted, eyeing her like she thought she was being an idiot. “You, if anyone, does not have any issues with your balance.”

“These shoes are nothing like a broom,” Harry muttered, eyeing her admittedly very pretty shoes with some trepidation. The heels on the things could be used as lethal weapons. “And if you hadn't noticed, we are currently walking, while flying does not require contact with the ground,” she said dryly.

“Oh, loosen up, Harry!” Ginny grinned, looping her arm through Harry's. “We're going to have _fun_!”

“You never know, you might even find someone you fancy,” Hermione added with a laugh, treading her arm through Harry's other one, sandwiching her between them.

Harry groaned. “I'm not letting you two lunatics drag me out for this to find someone to snog,” she said, exasperated and reluctantly amused. “And I wish Luna could have come with us.”

“No, but you need to relax a bit, Harry. And being snogged senseless is a perfectly relaxing endeavour,” Ginny replied, managing to sound far too snooty to be anything even resembling serious. “Luna can come with us on the next one, when she's gotten back to Britain,” she added a bit more solemnly.

Harry tried to affect an offended air, but burst out laughing.

.

By the time they reached the club, all three of them were in high spirits, laughing and joking and acting their ages.

All three of them were teenagers, still, even if it was a near thing in Hermione's case.

In the Muggle world, they'd be counted as something closer to children than adults.

They weren't.

After the war, none of them had felt much like their ages any more. Not that the years leading up to it had let them be all that childish, either, but...

With a determined smile, Harry shoved the darkening thought aside, and took the drink Ginny handed her. It was bright red and sweet, but still leaving a burning trail down her throat.

The place -club- was surprisingly classy, with plenty of tables and seats along the sides around the main dance floor. It was dark with coloured lights mainly around the broiling dance floor, music blaring from all around and it was warm in a way that spoke of many people packed tightly together.

“Come on!” Harry had to shout to be heard above the music. “We came here to dance, so let's dance!” And she proceeded to drag Hermione to the dance floor together with Ginny, who was practically bouncing giddily.

The press of sweaty bodies around them was... not very pleasant, but Harry was rather determined to have a good time. So she fell into the rhythm of the song currently playing, playfully shoving Ginny when she pressed too close and encouraging Hermione to 'let loose'.

After some time to adjust, it was a surprising amount of fun.

When all three of them were breathless with laughter and exertion, Ginny dragged the two of them back to the bar area and ordered all three of them shots.

Harry eyed the tiny glass a bit doubtfully, but downed the liquid it contained, trying not to grimace at the taste. The drink Hermione had ordered her had at least tasted good.

“Urgh. That's disgusting,” Harry laughed, setting the empty glass on the counter and watching Hermione wrinkle her nose when she took a cautious sip.

“That's not how you do it, Hermione!” Ginny admonished, having already downed her own glass. “Come on, be brave!”

Hermione, in response to the friendly needling, raised an unimpressed eyebrow and very calmly tipped the alcohol down her throat. When she had swallowed the last of it, she gave a dramatic shudder.

“I'm ordering the next round,” she declared firmly, before grinning at Ginny's offended look.

“I thought Harry would get a turn next?” Ginny asked, moving slightly to the beat of the music, her hair swaying behind her like a smooth, silky curtain.

“I think I'll get us all a glass of water each,” was Harry's answer to that, making her red-headed friend groan.

“Stop being so- so responsible! Not even Hermione's doing it! We're here to have _fun_!”

“Yes, we are. I don't know about you, though, but I don't want to spend all day tomorrow throwing up and feeling like I've been run over by a herd of Hippogriffs,” Harry snorted, raising a hand to get the bartender's attention. “Here, be a big girl and drink up.” She smirked at Ginny, who grimaced with exaggerated exasperation. “You'll thank me tomorrow,” Harry added with a laugh.

“Let's get back to dancing!” Ginny declared the moment she had drained and put down her glass, grabbing Harry and Hermione's arms to pull them with her back into the mass of grinding bodies on the floor.

Hermione yelped and hurriedly put her still half-full glass of water next to Ginny's empty one, complaining about the water that had spilled on her chest, which Ginny was happy to laugh off.

“It's gonna dry!”

Harry rolled her eyes and tried to dance in the limited space, happy that it was crowded enough that no one paid attention to her poor attempts at dancing.

As the night wore on, Harry lost track of the number of drinks Ginny and Hermione took turns to place into her hand, and she danced until her feet ached and it felt like her make-up was slipping off her face.

When Ginny tried to tug her along back to the dance-floor for the nth time, Harry laughingly disentangled herself from the excitable redhead.

“Bathroom!” she told her, waving her and Hermione on to go dance. Hermione was already swaying and moving to the music, and she looked like she'd stay and dance right there if it hadn't been for Ginny, who pulled her along with a smirk.

The moment the bathroom door closed behind her, Harry entered a stall and sat down on the toilet, resting her face against her hands.

The music was muted in here, and getting a chance to rest her feet felt lovely. Ignoring the way the small space seemed to move slightly, despite Harry sitting perfectly still, she took a deep breath and went about her business.

When she had washed her hands, Harry took a moment to study herself in the mirror with a critical eye. It looked like most her carefully applied make-up and been worn away during the course of the evening, and she didn't trust her own coordination enough to redo it right now.

With a slight shrug, she dug out the lip-gloss she'd gotten and put on some of that, at least.

Satisfied, Harry left to search out her friends.

The line to the bathroom had gotten longer during the time Harry had spent in there, and it felt remarkably satisfactory to stride past it.

When she had gotten back to the main hall of the club, she eyed the crowd with some trepidation. It would be close to impossible to find the two witches if they were still on the dance floor, so Harry turned to the next most likely place to find them. The bar.

Taking care to scan the people she walked past for Hermione's bushy hair and Ginny's freckles, she wasn't paying enough attention to herself and where she was walking.

Harry peered over to the side where she had seen some particularly bushy hair -it had turned out to belong to a man, so it wasn't Hermione- when she walked into someone else, feeling a glass of some sort get caught between them.

“Oh, Merlin! I'm so sorry!” Harry exclaimed, reflexively snatching up the glass before it could fall to the floor and shatter. It was a minor miracle that it hadn't emptied it's contents all over her dress, she mused distractedly as she finally looked up and took in the person she had walked into. “I'm so sorry,” she repeated herself, “I wasn't looking where I was going.”

“That's quite alright,” a deep voice responded, carrying the slightest hint of an accent she'd never heard before.

When she realised she was staring at the very handsome man the voice belonged to, Harry cleared her throat and hurriedly handed back the glass. “I think this is yours, uh, sorry,” she was very glad it was dark enough in here that she wouldn't feel too self-conscious about her scars.

The man took the glass with long, elegant fingers. When Harry chanced a glance up at him, his lips had stretched into a pleasant smile.

“No harm done,” he said simply. “Though I do wonder what could have you distracted enough you didn't see me.”

“I'm looking for my friends,” Harry explained, gaze flicking around occasionally to continue her search, even while most of her attention was on the man in front of her. “They walked off somewhere.”

“How unfortunate,” the man mused. His dark eyes were considering her from behind a pair of frameless glasses, and he was wearing a suit.

Harry blinked a little at his formal attire, though the jacket had been left open and his tie had been loosened slightly from it's more proper place.

“You could search from one of the tables?” he suggested with a look on his face that made it clear he wouldn't mind at all to talk to her a while longer.

Harry laughed. “Sitting down does sound like a wonderful idea.” Her feet were aching something fierce and she wished she could take off her shoes. She would prefer to go barefoot.

“Lovely,” the man said, reaching for her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as he _escorted_ her towards one of the tables.

It was slightly calmer here, and the music wasn't quite so overwhelming.

Harry sat down with a relieved sigh.

Then she took a moment to look over the booth-like area surrounding the table. There were several suit jackets discarded on the padded benches and a number of empty glasses littering the table.

“Here with friends?” she asked curiously when the man sat down next to her.

“Business associates,” he said, before taking a small sip of his drink. “This isn't the sort of place I usually frequent.”

“Same,” Harry leaned back, stretching her arms up over her head to ease her muscles a little and then leaned one elbow on the table, supporting her head with her hand. “My friends dragged me out for some fun.” She smiled.

“I'm Kyōya,” he introduced himself, smiling slightly and looking like he wasn't expecting her to be able to pronounce the name correctly.

“Nice to meet you, Kyōya.” Harry smirked; the average spell was more difficult to say correctly than his name, “I'm Harry.” She reached out her free hand for a handshake.

“A pleasure to meet you, Harry,” Kyōya returned, fingers tightening around her slender hand a second, before slowly sliding away from it.

The next hour was spent talking with Kyōya about anything from the day's news to the drunk people embarrassing themselves around them.

Harry was pleasantly buzzed, but nowhere _near_ enough drunk to do half the things she had witnessed in the last ten minutes alone.

Unfortunately, Ginny was one of those embarrassing drunk people.

She and Hermione had come by her and Kyōya's table, both of them drunker and rather more dishevelled than when she'd last seen them. Ginny had placed another drink in front of Harry, eyed Kyōya before giving her an approving grin and had then dragged Hermione with her out of there. The next glimpse she'd caught of her, Ginny had been wrapped around a bloke with her tongue stuck down his throat.

She had no idea where Hermione had disappeared off to, but wasn't worried; Hermione could more than take care of herself.

Harry wasn't sure how it happened, but by the time she'd finished the -rather large- drink Ginny had supplied her with, she was sitting in Kyōya's lap, chatting enthusiastically about... something. It had been quite interesting, but then her mouth was on Kyōya's and she couldn't for the life of her recall what they'd been talking about.

One large hand was resting on her thigh and the other was sliding up her back towards the back of her head. Harry's arms were wrapped around Kyōya's neck, the fingers of one hand tangled in his hair.

By the time they broke apart, they were both panting and Harry had somehow managed to shift so that she was straddling the man, dress hiked up around her hips.

“Wanna get out of here?” Kyōya asked a second later in a breathy voice, hands gripping her hips and eyes intently fixed on hers.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed before leaning in for another kiss.

Afterwards, Harry wouldn't be able to tell anyone how, exactly, she and Kyōya had made their way back to his hotel. If she didn't know better, she might as well have apparated them straight into the man's bedroom.

What she _did_ remember, though, was the door to the suite closing, his lips on her mouth and the way his hand had slid down her hip, the other holding her close to his body.

Harry herself was busy untucking and unbuttoning Kyōya's shirt, before peeling it off his shoulders.

The cloth rustled as it hit the carpeted floor and she was kicking off her shoes, toes digging into the plush fabric under her feet.

She was working on Kyōya's belt buckle when he began to steer them towards the bed, hands roaming with increasing urgency, leaving hot trails in their wake.

The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and Harry let herself fall backwards. Sprawled on the bed, she watched Kyōya standing between her knees, naked chest heaving.

For one long heartbeat, neither of them did anything besides watching the other, studying each other's faces.

Then Kyōya was slowly reaching for her, bending down to let his fingers caress her legs, sliding up her thighs and bringing her dress up with it, exposing more and more of her legs the further he went. The entire time, he didn't break eye-contact.

Her heart was beating so hard in her chest, she was half-convinced Kyōya would be able to hear it.

When his fingers slid over her hip-bones, her breath stuttered slightly and the intensity in Kyōya's eyes sharpened.

Harry arched her back to help him get the dress off and then raised her arms, assisting in pulling the thing over her head. When she lay back down on the bed, Kyōya let his eyes roam her form before continuing with increased urgency.

When his fingers caught the waist of her stockings, Harry couldn't keep herself motionless any longer.

Lifting her hips to let Kyōya peel the thin fabric off her legs, Harry caught his hands the moment he was done and pulled him down for another kiss.

He was still wearing his trousers, and Harry wasn't completely naked yet, but that didn't stop them from migrating more properly onto the bed.

She sighed into Kyōya's mouth when one of his hands slid up her stomach and began to explore her chest, pushing the lacy bra she was wearing up to expose the soft, pliant flesh beneath.

Harry arched up into the touch, finally managing to work the belt open. It was a matter of seconds to get the trousers open the rest of the way and pushed down his hips.

It was at this point that Kyōya broke the kiss and attached his mouth to the side of her throat, sucking gently on the sensitive skin.

The fingers of one of her hands tangled themselves into the soft hair at the top of his neck while the other grabbed the man's shoulder.

Harry had to bite her lip when Kyōya's tongue dragged across her skin, followed by the scrape of teeth, making her insides jolt.

“Come on,” Harry groaned, tugging on Kyōya's hair, her free hand sliding from his shoulder, down his flat, firm chest, past a nipple, tense abdomen to cross the lining of the man's boxers.

Kyōya broke off what he was doing to bury his face into the side of her throat, shuddering and pulling in a sharp breath when Harry's fingers danced down the fabric stretched over his very obvious erection.

With a growl, he worked one arm under her back and had lifted her back up off the mattress before Harry could do more than blink her eyes open. Her bra was tossed aside next, and Kyōya's mouth was pressed on hers in a hot, consuming kiss.

Harry moaned into the kiss when Kyōya's hips lowered until she could feel him pressing against her. There were two layers of cloth between them, but Harry moved up to meet him, rolling her hips to give friction, anything, because she was so damn-

Harry untangled her fingers from Kyōya's hair and pushed her panties down, hips lifting and incidentally pushing against the man's very hard, very very interesting cock.

She eagerly swallowed Kyōya's responding moan and kicked her panties off onto the floor, one hand beginning to tug down his boxers when Kyōya grabbed one of her thighs to hike it up onto his hip.

She was distracted from her plans and Kyōya's fingers were tracing the slick opening between her thighs before there was a slight pressure, warm fingers sliding in and then moving _inside of her_ and Harry heard him breathe a harsh word that sounded like a curse, and-

His mouth was on her left breast.

Harry wasn't sure, but she thought the low, keening noise she could distantly hear might be coming from her throat.

Kyōya rose so that he was standing on his knees, withdrew his two fingers from between her legs and leaned to the side, reaching for something and fumbling with it a moment.

Harry's breathing was harsh, rushing past her kiss-swollen lips as she tried to ease it somehow. She slung one arm over her eyes, waiting for her partner to finish with the condom. And preferably get rid of his boxers while he was at it.

When the bed dipped and Kyōya was leaning over her again, she could breathe a little easier, but she was still hot all over and there was a burning _ache_ for something in her stomach for him to- and Kyōya was kissing her again.

Harry tilted her head, melting into a kiss that was much calmer and more controlled than she had been expecting, than anything they had shared so far.

Kyōya's hands wandered down her sides until they were gripping her hips.

His body almost resting flush against her own, Harry could feel his cock resting hotly against her skin, heavy and straining and she needed him _in her right now._

And shit, she might have said that out loud, because Kyōya gave a hoarse groan and happily obliged.

Harry's head tilted back when she felt the tip sliding against the wet, swollen lips and then slowly, carefully pushed inside.

A small, helpless sound escaped her at the feeling.

Kyōya's mouth was branding her throat and it was all Harry could do to breathe because he had sheathed himself fully in her, and she wrapped her legs around him, pressing him even closer.

He was sucking on her clavicle when he pulled out slightly, the heavy cock dragging against _everything_ inside her making her shudder with pleasure and roll into the movement of him pushing back inside.

Her arms were wrapped around him, one around the neck and one gripping tightly at his back, nails digging into his skin.

Kyōya's breath was trembling against her skin and it was all Harry could do to hold on and weather the overwhelming pleasure tearing through her nervous system.

The tempo remained slow and steady for a while, interspersed with deep, intense kisses that left her breathless and writhing against him.

When the rhythm increased, she knew she wasn't far off the edge, climbing steadily towards climax. Kyōya had buried his face in her neck again and Harry could hear every single noise he made, which was unimaginably enjoyable.

Orgasm came with a strangled cry and white hot pleasure washing through her, threatening to sweep her away and under the current.

Kyōya pumped into her through the wracking waves of pleasure, enhancing it and lengthening the duration of it until it felt like she would black out.

With one last push, Kyōya tensed, joined with her as closely as possible, before collapsing onto her, a heavy, shuddering weight that seemed to ground her in reality rather than trap her against the bed.

Harry panted, slowly relaxing her worn out body, easing into the soft mattress under her and pressing small, light kisses against Kyōya's shoulder.

Her eyes were drifting closed, sleep dragging at her consciousness. She was feeling content and Kyōya's heavy weight pressing her deeper into the mattress should be constricting but she just felt safe.

Kyōya's eventual stirring was distant, but him pulling out of her made a tremble move through her body and a soft noise of mixed pleasure and loss slipped past parted lips.

The last thing she recalled with clarity before sleep pulled her under was a gentle press of lips on her own.

.

.

Harry woke up slowly.

It was such a foreign feeling for her, not jerking awake with bad dreams nipping at her heels, she didn't even register anything else for a long while.

She was warm and content, relaxed in a way she hadn't been in years.

Taking a deep, languid breath, Harry pushed her face into her pillow a moment before blinking her eyes open.

She got only a glimpse of the beautiful room around her before she became overly aware of the arms wrapped around her and everything else became less important. Something warm and solid was pressed up against her back, enveloping her, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and she could feel a slow, even breath against her shoulder in time with the chest behind her rising and falling.

In a heartbeat, she remember where she was and _why_ , and Harry felt her face heat up with embarrassment. She decidedly ignored the spark igniting in her lower abdomen at the same time.

Lifting a hand to rub at her face, Harry grimaced slightly at the make-up crusting her eyes. She hoped she hadn't smeared any on the pillow...

Taking a deep breath, she shifted a little to try and figure out how to escape the arms keeping her close to the other's chest.

When she moved, the arms tightened around her, and the man they belonged to murmured something she couldn't understand against the back of her shoulder, before pressing his mouth against it in an almost-kiss.

Harry squirmed slightly, unable to stay perfectly still, despite the arms around her, because she couldn't ignore the small detail that they were _both naked_. Lying flush together.

She could feel everything.

Lifting the covers a little to get a look at the arms curled around her, Harry tentatively began to loosen their hold on her.

Carefully peeling the arms away from her skin, Harry began to get up, only for the arms to snake back around her and pull her back down. Even more firmly against the man's -Kyōya's- chest this time.

Giving an aggravated huff, Harry managed to shuffle until she was almost facing the man, prepared to tell him, quite firmly, to let her go so she could get up and go home.

The relaxed, peaceful expression on his face brought her up short, though.

He looked... different, without the glasses, was her first thought. Softer somehow. Or that might just be because he was currently asleep and Harry was seeing what she wanted.

Was she still drunk?

Didn't feel like it, but... Harry determinedly squashed down the impulse to curl into the man and bury her face in his chest, to fall back asleep.

“I need to go home,” she mumbled to herself.

Kyōya responded by pulling her closer again, nuzzling her hair and muttering a long string of words in what she could only assume was his mother language.

Cheeks burning -she wasn't sure if it was with embarrassment or... something else- Harry finally managed to squirm out of the man's arms and slip off the mattress down onto the floor.

A slight frown pulled on Kyōya's eyebrows, and he shifted enough that Harry was afraid she'd woken him up. In the end, he finally turned slightly and buried his face in his pillow, muttering something in a displeased manner.

Harry let out a slow, silent sigh, and climbed to her feet.

Stark naked.

With one last glance at the bed, Harry set out to find all her scattered pieces of clothing.

She grimaced at the thought of getting dressed without a shower, but pulled on her dress regardless. She didn't fancy leaving the room in her birthday suit. Never mind the _Hotel_.

Pausing a moment, Harry scowled down at the stockings dangling from one of her hands, but gave in with a sigh and started to pull them on. She hated it when people stared at her scars, and the ones on her feet and legs were no different.

Who knew flying a broom through a room filled with raging Fiendfyre could be so dangerous?

Harry mentally rolled her eyes at her own thoughts as she slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes. So pretty, but she wouldn't be wearing them dancing ever again. Her feet felt like they were about to fall off!

Glancing over the room one more time, Harry finally spotted her purse.

It was lying precariously on the edge of a small, delicate-looking table by the bedroom door.

Had she put it down on the first available surface without even looking? Yes, Harry admitted to herself with a sigh.

With one last look at the bed and the -very handsome, _tempting_ \- man occupying it, Harry turned and silently left the bedroom.

If the situation had been any different, Harry would have stopped dead, blinking blearily at the extravagant suite she found herself in. As it was, she just frowned a little, and strode through it with determined steps, purse clutched tightly in one hand.

Before she left the suite entirely, Harry paused, took a deep breath, straightened her back and stared at the door like there were Death Eaters waiting on the other side.

With one last deep breath, Harry smoothed down her dress, cursed the state of her hair and then stepped out into the silent corridor on the other side.

By the time she had made it outside, Harry had received too many knowing glances than she cared to think about and took a moment to breathe in the still morning air.

The sky was still dark and it was _very_ early.

Harry turned right and went on the hunt for the closest empty alley she could apparate from.

Thank Merlin you didn't have to know where you were to reach the destination you wanted. She somehow didn't think 'London' would cut it.

.

.

Harry managed to enter the Granger house without any dramatic mishaps, or accidentally waking Hermione's parents. The key Emma had promised to leave out in one of the hanging flower pots outside the window, had been there and she had quietly let herself inside.

Her first stop was the bathroom, where she used the loo and washed her face.

She side-eyed the shower but admitted that she wanted sleep more. She could shower at a more agreeable hour.

Shuffling out of the bathroom, Harry made her way towards Hermione's room, where there was a bed waiting for her.

Pushing the door open, which hadn't been entirely closed, Harry blinked into the gloom.

She knew where the mattress was, so she carefully approached it, going slowly while she waited for her eyes to adjust.

When she had lied down under the covers, she could see well enough to take note of Hermione sleeping like the dead on her own bed, face pressed into her pillow, breathing deep and even.

It was also easy to see that Ginny's bed was very empty, and hadn't been touched since they'd made them the day before.

With a small, amused smile, Harry relaxed against the soft, floral-smelling bedclothes and closed her eyes.

She only had time to vaguely mourn the lack of another warm body next to her in the bed, strong arms to pull her close.

Harry slipped back into sleep with a small, weary sigh.

-x-x-x-

 

 

 


	2. Morning sickness? It's just the Flu

The next few days returned to normal, and Harry felt like everyone wanted her to be everywhere at once. Like usual, these days.

The one frivolous night spent like actual teenagers was soon shunted to the back of everyone's minds and near forgotten.

Weeks passed and Harry was so busy she didn't notice until she woke up early one morning with a roiling stomach. She had to rush to the bathroom and when she'd emptied the contents of her stomach down the porcelain bowl, Harry stared at the mess, panting, as her stomach slowly settled.

“What?” she muttered under her breath.

Pushing her hair out of her face, Harry staggered to her feet and stepped over to the sink.

She washed her face and then straightened to stare at herself in the mirror.

“You don't have time to get sick, Harry,” she told herself sternly, taking in her pale complexion and the slight frown pulling on her brows.

In the course of the day, she didn't feel any other obvious symptoms to hint at the flu or a stomach bug, but the next morning started just the same. And the next one. And the day after that.

By the time a week had passed with no change, Harry spent her days with a constant knot of nerves clenching her stomach even as she did her best to pretend everything was fine, normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.

In the end, she realised that she had to deal with it, find out the truth, one way or another.

“Harry! How nice to see you again,” Emma greeted her cheerfully in the door and Harry smiled. “Oh, you look so tired, dear. You must take better care of yourself,” she admonished gently, ushering her into the hallway.

“Hello, Emma. Is Hermione home?” she asked with a small, tense smile.

“She's up in her room, why? Has something happened?” Emma's face instantly clouded with worry.

“Not really, I just wanted to catch her for some time just for the two of us,” Harry said, not a single lie crossing her lips.

Emma brightened at the words and sent her up the stairs with an offer to bring up tea.

“Thank you!” Harry called back and then hurried up to Hermione's room.

“Harry? Was that your voice I heard?” Hermione opened her door before Harry could knock, and she smiled at the bushy-haired girl, fond and genuine.

“Who else?” she asked and stepped past her friend to take a seat on her cluttered bed. There were books and parchment, notebooks and pens spread all over it, but Harry shifted a few books to the side and focused on Hermione.

“So what's the matter?” Hermione finally asked, closing the door and giving Harry a considering once-over, most likely picking up on her nerves.

“I, um, need to talk to you,” Harry began, her stomach feeling like nothing more than a roiling, hollow pit, attempting to suck her heart and lungs out of her ribcage. “About- about something important.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied slowly, looking intently at the dark haired woman perched rigidly on the edge of her bed, looking like she was prepared to bolt at the first hint of danger.

“I think I- I'm late,” Harry blurted, aborting what she had first intended to say and going in a less specific direction.

Hermione frowned confusedly a long moment, staring at Harry as if she'd be able to read the meaning of her words from her skin.

Harry could see the exact moment when Hermione finally realised what she was talking about; her eyes widened and she hurried to take a seat next to her, not even blinking at the books that tumbled off the mattress onto the floor. Her hands hovered uncertainly in front of her, as if wanting to pull her into a hug but not sure if she should.

“With how long?”

“About a month.” Harry grimaced. She hadn't really paid much more than a cursory sort of attention to her monthly cycle in a while, because it'd been some time since it had been regular, but in combination with the- the _morning sickness_. Urgh, just thinking the words was enough to twist her face in weird ways. “And-” Hermione gave her a patient, expectant look until she continued, in a small voice. “I've been throwing up. In the mornings. For a little over a week.”

A strange expression flickered over Hermione's face, but it was gone fast enough that Harry didn't have to act like she had seen it.

“You think you're pregnant?” Hermione finally asked, after a long heavy silence that was pressing down on the both of them. Her voice was soft, gentle.

Harry gave a helpless shrug.

The silence returned, Harry and Hermione simply staring at one another for the longest time.

Then Hermione took a deep breath, shook hear head slightly and visibly committed her considerable brains to the issue.

“There's a potion we can brew to check. It's more reliable than a muggle test,” she offered after a few seconds.

And this was why Harry loved Hermione with all her heart.

“I'd like that,” she said weakly.

And with that, Hermione was off, going straight to the rather impressive bookshelf taking up a whole wall in her room.

“Where was it, I know I put it here somewhere,” she was continuously muttering to herself until, “Aha! Here it is!” And she pulled a surprisingly thin -for Hermione anyway- book out from between two heavy tomes. It looked new, like she had barely opened it.

At Harry's curious look, she huffed amusedly and returned to her seat next to Harry, holding up the book for Harry to see the cover.

“Mrs Weasley got it for me on my birthday. Now that I'm officially together with Ron and all.” She rolled her eyes slightly, but her smile was fond and affectionate.

“ _Potions and Spells for the Modern Witch,_ ” Harry read out loud, feeling a spark of amusement at the thought of Molly giving a book like this to all of her son's girlfriends. Had she given one to Fleur? Harry somehow doubted it, though. Perhaps belatedly?

“Some of it's actually quite nifty,” Hermione said as she opened it and began to flip through the pages. “Here we are.” She turned it around to let Harry take a look.

“ _Witch's Wonder,_ ” Harry muttered as the skimmed the recipe. “Do we have all these ingredients?”

“No.” Hermione didn't have to say that she hadn't planned to brew this particular potion in a few years yet, at least. “But I can pop out to Diagon real quick and then we can get started,” she continued briskly. They had a goal now, and Hermione seemed determined to reach it, as quickly as possible.

Harry appreciated it.

“Yeah,” she murmured as Hermione got up to gather a few things, go through the potions kit to see if anything else was missing.

Harry was unimaginably grateful that she was back within the hour. Time Harry had spent anxiously forcing down a cup of tea. Ten minutes after _that,_ they were brewing.

She didn't think she was much help, but Hermione didn't even mention the way she was fumbling the ingredients and being a general hindrance rather than any actual help.

The potion was surprisingly simple. After an hour, which involved a twenty minute cooling down period, the thing was ready to use.

“Do you... want to wait?” Hermione asked when they had been staring at the filled vial for a whole ten minutes without doing anything.

“ _No_. No, let me just,” she took a deep breath, “prepare myself. Mentally,” Harry muttered.

With one last, deep breath, Harry took the potion and went for the bathroom. Hermione hurriedly gave her an empty glass and a reassuring squeeze of the hand and then sat back to wait.

Once she was locked in the bathroom, Harry stared from the vial, to the glass, to the toilet, and then carefully put the potions vial on the bathroom sink. It would be just her luck for the damn thing to slip off and smash on the floor.

Filling the glass with some of her urine was... weird, but not even close to the strangest thing she had ever done, and when she was done, Harry quickly poured it into the potions vial, washed her hands and then rushed the potion back to Hermione.

Harry set the thing down on the floor and then sank down in front of it, staring avidly, even though she knew it would take a few minutes.

She barely noticed when Hermione joined her on the floor.

The potion was a smooth, soothing dove grey. If it was negative, it would darken to charcoal, and if it was positive, it would turn-

“Gold,” Harry breathed, eyes wide and dazed as she watched the potion turn a charming shade of near-luminescent gold.

“We're pregnant,” Hermione said quietly, voice bordering on disbelief.

After a shocked moment, the two young women turned to each other, and Harry could _feel_ how pale she was.

“I- I'm pregnant,” she stated, lacking any particular inflection to indicate what she felt about it. For one long minute, all she could do was stare into Hermione's equally wide eyes. “What do I do now?” she heard herself ask, not expecting anything resembling an answer.

.

.

After the silent mental freak-out, Hermione had bundled the two of them down to the sitting room, where they spent the next few hours sequestered in the sofa, watching films while wrapped in blankets and stuffing themselves with sweets and crisps they had spent fifteen minutes getting from the closest convenience store.

Neither of them had spoken a word since leaving Hermione's room, both lost in their own head-space.

Harry couldn't even say which films they had been watching.

She was _pregnant_!

With a BABY!!

Holy Merlin, there was a tiny, tiny person growing inside her.

When Hermione turned off the TV -Harry still had no idea what film had just ended- and turned to her, Harry felt a little more capable of having a conversation that went beyond monosyllable answers to a string of questions.

“Harry?” Hermione began, sounding so hesitantly careful, Harry felt like laughing. Or crying. Whichever.

“Yes, Hermione?” Harry asked, pretending like she didn't know _exactly_ what kind of conversation they were about to have.

“I think I already know the answer, but,” she paused a moment, and then pressed on, “do you know when you got, um, you know. Pregnant?”

Harry let out a sigh, feeling herself sag slightly further into the soft sofa cushions, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Yes.” There wasn't even any doubt. “Last month, when we went out. That's the only possibility.”

“I thought so.” Hermione nodded slowly, shuffling closer to Harry until they were sitting right next to each other. “Weren't you using protection?” she asked next, no accusation or reproach in her voice, merely concerned curiosity.

“We were,” Harry groaned, her stomach clenching a little as she thought back.

If it wasn't nightmares jerking her from sleep at night, she woke up uncomfortable for entirely different reasons; the dreams she _still_ had of that night were very... vivid.

Her bed had never felt as empty as it had in the last month. Which was entirely ridiculous, because Harry had spent _one night_ with a complete stranger. In HISbed!

 _Why_ was her brain doing this to her?

“He used a condom,” she added, to make it more clear, and Hermione nodded.

“No birth control are 100% effective. There's always a small chance...”

“Yeah. And I _had_ to be that tiny percentage,” Harry laughed humourlessly, resting her head on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione snorted. “Of course.” She smiled. The light atmosphere soon dissipated, though. “You know that there are... alternatives,” Hermione said neutrally, but obviously prepared to be fully supportive no matter what Harry chose.

“No,” Harry's response was immediate. “I couldn't.” She tightened her grip on the blanket wrapped around her shoulders until her knuckles were white. “I can't,” she added, feeling queasy at the thought.

“No abortion,” Hermione assured her quickly. “I just wanted to bring it up. I had to.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, feeling unimaginably tired, and it was barely evening. “I think...” her words drifted off as she tried to find the right ones to describe what she felt. “I think I would regret it for the rest of my life if I- if I killed it.”

Hermione slung one arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled her into a partial hug.

“That's perfectly alright, Harry,” her friend assured her warmly, voice thick with emotion. “I think I'd feel the same,” she admitted next.

They were silent a few seconds, just revelling in each other's company.

“So what about the father?”

“What about him?” Harry asked, lifting her head from Hermione's shoulder and turned slightly so that she could meet her gaze more properly.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“As soon as I find him.”

Hermione nodded, as if she'd been expecting nothing less than the direct, near-automatic response.

“So how are we going to find him, then?” she asked, straightening slightly, because this was something more direct she could help her friend with.

Harry grimaced, shoulders slumping slightly.

“I haven't the foggiest,” she admitted reluctantly. “We never even shared our full names, you know.”

“That's not very smart.” Hermione frowned playfully at Harry. “Especially if he's half as amazing as you seem to think he is.”

Harry buried her face in her hands. “Merlin, Hermione!”

Hermione laughed and they began to toss ideas back and forth between them on how to locate 'Kyōya' as fast as possible.

They talked until Harry was drooping enough that she could barely keep her eyes open, and Hermione couldn't ignore it any longer.

“Let's get upstairs. I'll make the extra bed for you and you'll spend the night,” she declared, already standing before Harry and pulling her upright by the hands.

Harry was too emotionally exhausted to protest.

.

.

The next morning, Harry felt much better waking up than she had been the night before.

Her panic had settled into something she couldn't yet define, but knowing for certain what was going on and roughly what she would do... helped. A lot.

Harry getting up and leaving the room to take a shower stirred Hermione awake, and half an hour later, the two of them entered the kitchen together for some breakfast.

Harry was so used to starting her day by throwing up now she hardly thought about it.

And now she knew the reason, so that was a bit better, too.

“You girls are up early,” Emma greeted them with a cheerful smile. “After your girl's night I thought you'd sleep in.” There was a question in there, and after a slight hesitation, Harry set her jaw determinedly and casually said,

“Sorry to spend the night without notice, but it was a bit of an emergency. I found out I'm pregnant.”

It took a few seconds before Emma reacted, but when she did, it was in an entirely unexpected manner.

The woman eyed Harry intently a long second, before a joyous smile broke out on her face.

“Congratulations!” She pulled Harry into an impromptu hug. “I suppose this means I should expect Hermione to follow suit shortly.” She winked conspiratorially at her, and Harry laughed.

“MUM!” Hermione exclaimed, sounding near-outraged.

“What? You're an entire year older than our Harry, here, darling.” Emma smirked at her flustered daughter. “And you're even going steady with that charming redhead of yours now!” she added happily.

Hermione blushed so hard Harry suspected you could fry an egg on her cheeks and get it well done. She slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and let her forehead connect with the table top, muttering unintelligibly all the while.

“This is your fault, Harry,” she said when she finally raised her head again, glaring half-heartedly at her friend and her mother both.

Harry shrugged and sat down in the chair next to her. It wasn't like she'd gotten pregnant on purpose.

“How far along are you?” Emma asked into the following silence, making Harry freeze.

“Um, a little over a month? Probably.”

Emma looked thoughtful at the words. “Hm. Well, a lot can happen before twelve weeks.”

At Harry's questioning look, Emma launched into an explanation about miscarriages and by the end of it, Harry was feeling a bit pale and shaky.

“That could happen?” she asked weakly, suddenly feeling rather protective of the tiny embryo she had been panicking about just yesterday.

“It's not uncommon,” Emma said slowly, patting Harry on the hand comfortingly. “But you normally wouldn't even notice, and since things have progressed this far....” she trailed off, lips stretched in a slight, reassuring smile. “I can get you some pamphlets on my way home from work, if you'd like?”

“Yes, please,” Harry's response was immediate. “Thank you.”

There was _so much_ she didn't know about all of this! Things she obviously hadn't known she didn't know about.

“I could go to the library for you, too,” Hermione added, straightening up properly.

Harry felt so grateful for a moment, she felt threatened by tears.

“You two are the best,” she told them with a tremulous smile. Harry knew she was _so_ lucky to have them. She didn't even want to imagine what Aunt Petunia's reaction would have been.

(She could practically hear the outraged shrieking and name-calling.)

Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, Harry focused on the breakfast Emma had been putting on the table in front of them while they talked.

“So,” the woman continued a while later, far too casual to be anywhere near so innocent. “Is the father-to-be anyone I know?”

Harry choked ever so slightly on her tea, and hurriedly put down the mug.

“Ah, considering that I don't even know his full name, I'm gonna go with a solid 'No'.”

Emma blinked and tilted her head in thought.

“That is going to make a _very_ interesting story to tell your child one day,” she finally said, sounding positively saintly.

Harry closed her eyes and ignored Hermione's muffled sniggers.

“Mum, how did you and Dad meet?” Hermione choked out in between gasping laughter in a squeaky, childlike voice.

Harry opened her eyes and smacked Hermione sharply on the head.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right,” Harry told her snootily. “I thought people were supposed to be kind and understanding to girls in my condition.”

Hermione managed to keep a straight face for about two full seconds before she broke down laughing again. Harry joined her a heartbeat later.

Emma watched them with a pleased, indulgent smile.

When they had calmed down, Harry finished her breakfast and then said in a sensible voice:

“Now we just have to figure out how to tell Ron.”

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. A breath later, she lowered it and turned to Emma. “Mum, you have to lend me your camera,” she told her seriously, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Emma poured them all another cup of tea, and they settled in for a few minutes of calm.

Harry's good humour slowly dissipated as she fell deep into thought.

She was pregnant.

She was going to be a mother.

Unless terrifying things like miscarriage happened.

And she had to find Kyōya, tell him the news, and deal with the possible fallout of that potential disaster.

So much to look forward to! she thought sarcastically.

But, well. Things _could_ be worse. Easily.

“Do you have a gynaecologist already?” Emma asked, bringing her back to the present and Harry blinked. “Or do you plan to go to that magical hospital?” she quickly added, looking thoughtful and a little flat-footed. As if she hadn't thought about that until that exact moment.

Harry felt all the blood leave her face at the thought of going with this to St. Mungo's, her fingers grabbing onto the edge of the table until her knuckles shone white against the wood.

“No. I'm not going to St.Mungo's,” Harry heard a strangled voice say distantly as she tried to bring her breathing back to normal.

Merlin, the wizarding world was going to _explode_ when they found out.

Harry absently wondered how many wizards were going to claim to be the father while Hermione explained her reaction to her mother, who was eyeing Harry with open concern.

“Does that mean you already have a gynaecologist?”

“No,” Harry muttered, trying to dig herself out of the despaired pit the thought of her fame in relation to her pregnancy had dropped her in. “Do you know anyone trustworthy?”

Emma frowned slightly as she thought. “I could do a little digging. Give me a couple of days and I'll give you a few alternatives.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly, uncurling her fingers from the table and grasping her warm mug instead.

“I would love to stay, but I need to head into work,” Emma said with a sigh and a small smile. “Dan will be there by now, but I won't share the news!” she promised with a wink, making Harry's lips twitch. The man had barely had time for a hello when he'd hurried into the kitchen to grab a sandwich and then been on his way.

Once they were alone, she turned to Hermione.

“Your mother is great.”

Hermione nodded. “She doesn't really get this magical thing, but anything else and she's at the top of her game.” she rolled her eyes slightly.

Harry huffed an amused breath and very carefully didn't laugh. She'd found that Hermione was very much like her father, and Emma spent a large portion of her time greatly amused and partly exasperated at them both, in turn.

.

.

Shortly before lunch came around, Harry and Hermione left her parent's house after a very drawn out breakfast that hadn't contained as much eating as it had consumption of copious amounts of tea.

“Okay,” Harry said on an exhalation. “Meet back up in half an hour?” she asked Hermione before they walked out the door, despite the fact that they had gone over the plan half a dozen times since Emma and Dan left for work.

Dan had given the three of them a long, questioning look when he'd walked into the kitchen early this morning, but hadn't asked anything, despite having been able to tell something was going on.

Harry was very grateful.

This was difficult enough to deal with without people demanding an explanation before she was ready to share.

“I'll get Ron from the shop,” Hermione confirmed with steady patience.

Harry nodded and stepped back out into the real world. The Granger house, for all that the family of three had lived there just about two months, felt like a sanctuary she had been able to spend the last twenty-four hours in. That she was now leaving.

“Sounds great,” Harry muttered and she and Hermione walked off down the road to the closest spot they could safely apparate from to their respective destinations.

Harry waited a second to watch Hermione disappear into thin air and then turned on the spot herself.

She reappeared a second later in a small, sad-looking park.

Walking out from amongst the trees, Harry strode down the dilapidated street with purpose until she reached the Number Twelve. Grimmauld Place was looking the same as ever, but Harry was so used to the state of the neighbourhood by now she hardly noticed.

Entering the familiar building, she absently took in the differences. It looked a world away from the depressing, foreboding hovel it had appeared to be when she was fifteen. Kreacher had outdone himself, especially considering the fact that he lived mostly in the Tonks house now, helping Andromeda with Teddy.

Closing the door behind her, Harry let out a small breath of relief, shutting out all the noises of the neighbourhood and the city around them.

“Kreacher?” Harry spoke the word softly. She sincerely hoped the elf hadn't been in the middle of something important.

“Mistress called for Kreacher?” Kreacher croaked, having popped into existence right in front of Harry. It was lucky she had been expecting it, or she might have done something drastic. She still had to ruefully tuck away her wand.

“I did.” She smiled down at him. “How are you? Do you like it with Andy?”

Kreacher eyed her intently for a long moment, no doubt to estimate how well she was taking care of herself.

“Miss Andromeda is a credit to the Black family name,” was his eventual, dignified response.

Harry smiled. That was the equivalent of a declaration of undying love from anyone else.

“Do you have some spare time, or do you need to head back and help with Teddy?” she asked next. Harry didn't want to inconvenience the woman; Andy had enough to deal with without Harry making things worse.

“Kreacher always has time for his Mistress,” Kreacher said, affecting an offended glare up at Harry, who smiled apologetically.

“Right. Do you think you could make lunch for me, Ron and Hermione?”

“Of course. Kreacher is taking care of his Mistress!” The determined glare deepened as Kreacher did the house-elf version of stomping off to the kitchen. Which meant he disappeared with a louder 'POP' than usual.

Harry laughed softly and followed Kreacher to the kitchen, at a far more sedated pace.

By the time she had sat down and been served -yet another- cup of tea, Kreacher had lunch well under way.

Fifteen minutes later, after one cup of tea, one bathroom break and one stilted conversation where Kreacher had asked after Harry's health while trying to sound like he wasn't questioning her, Hermione and Ron arrived.

A few minutes after _that,_ Kreacher had the table set and had faded into the background. Possibly with use of sneaky house-elf magic.

“So what's going on?” Ron finally asked, having started to load his plate with the delicious-looking food.

Harry eyed the food with some reluctance. She hadn't eaten much today, but she didn't exactly feel hungry either. With a sigh, she began to fill her plate.

“I have some... life-altering news,” she finally began, shooting a nervous look at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly.

Ron didn't say anything, but looked like he expected it to be of the bad variety.

Harry spent a long minute just staring at Ron, wondering how she was supposed to go about explaining this.

“I'm pregnant.”

The words were out before she could second-guess herself. Ron stared right back at her with blank incomprehension for the longest time, food forgotten on the table in front of him.

Then his nose wrinkled slightly in thought, his face paled dramatically, then turned bright red, followed by an interesting almost-green tint.

Harry watched him go through the emotional roller-coaster with morbid fascination.

Ron finally snapped out of it, only to flinch at Hermione's livid glare.

“You don't have any siblings, Hermione! You don't understand what I'm going through right now!” he insisted defensively, managing to look like a kicked puppy as he pleaded with his girlfriend. “I really, _really_ don't want to think about Harry, Ginny, or any of my siblings doing stuff that could result in _pregnancy_!” After a slight pause, he added. “It's bad enough that Fleur is preggers,” he mumbled, looking vaguely green again.

When Hermione launched into a vicious dressing down, a fearsome scowl on her face, Harry could only blink at Ron.

Before she knew it, she was laughing.

“Oh, Ron. Please never change, alright?” She grinned at her friend, who looked confused but nodded obligingly anyway.

“Me an' Hermione are the godparents, right?” Ron asked earnestly a heartbeat later, before picking up his fork and shoving far too much food into his mouth at once. He continued to stare imploringly at Harry while he chewed.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, and Harry suspected that she was laughing helplessly.

That sure was what Harry was doing.

Lunch proceeded in a much more light-hearted manner after that. The only down-side to it all was that Kreacher had heard every word. And was now hovering close to Harry with a near-manic glint in his large eyes, eyeing her stomach like it was the Holy Grail.

Harry figured that she would ignore _that_ problem for now. She'd deal with it later. Maybe.

Or it would just go away on it's own, she thought wryly as she watched Kreacher mutter excitedly to himself out of the corner of her eye.

“But seriously, Ron. Don't you have _any_ thoughts at all on this except to claim godparent rights?” Hermione finally asked sceptically, when Kreacher served up dessert he had whipped out of seemingly nowhere, serving Harry double the portion.

Harry kept most of her attention on Ron, even as she eyed the veritable mountain of pie Kreacher had given her. She pointedly ignored the insistent, unblinking stare he was currently gracing her with.

“Uh, the way I figure it, there's nothing much I can really say?” Ron answered slowly, as if he thought Hermione should have already figured all of this out. “Harry's a grown witch and I trust her to do what she feels is best,” he finished with a shrug, as if saying that it wasn't more complicated than that.

Harry tore her gaze away from her plate to stare at Ron. She was partly mortified to realise that there were tears in her eyes. The rest of her was overrun with grateful, loving emotions enough that she didn't give two knuts.

“You will definitely be godfather, mate,” she told him thickly, voice wobbling a bit, embarrassingly enough.

Ron's ears turned bright red but he smiled back, nothing but warm affection and steadfast support in his eyes.

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione sighed exasperatedly, but she was smiling tenderly at her boyfriend nonetheless.

“You guys are the best friends I could ever ask for,” Harry declared, before bursting into relieved tears. Her two best friends still loved her and everything would turn out alright.

-x-x-x-

  
  


Everything was _horrible_.

Harry's life sucked and the world was conspiring against her. She'd known it already, but she was feeling it particularly keenly right now.

She was currently hugging the toilet closest to the kitchen in Grimmauld Place, puking her guts out. Hermione was holding her hair back and was rubbing her back far too fast to be soothing, but the sentiment was appreciated.

Ron was hovering anxiously in the bathroom door, and Kreacher would have probably been trying to drown himself if Ron hadn't been maintaining a firm grip on the distraught house-elf's arm.

“Don't worry about it, Kreacher,” Harry managed to get out between bursts of her stomach trying to either turn itself inside-out or attempting to expel itself from her body, she couldn't decide which alternative felt more accurate.

Kreacher didn't pause his continuous wailing, and it was lucky this house was protected with magical wards -that included sound- or the neighbours would think someone was being tortured to death.

“-precious Mistress is going to die because of Kreacher's cooking! The BABY!! The next Black Heir! Kreacher is a disgrace to the Black name!” He took a deep breath, preparing to continue in the same vein, but Harry was getting a headache from throwing up and having to listen to Kreacher's dramatics.

“Be silent, please,” she groaned out before her stomach rebelled again and she spent the next few seconds heaving.

Kreacher instantly shut up, the abrupt silence making Harry's gagging sounds twice as loud.

“Thank you,” she breathed the next time she had enough air to speak. “Wasn't your fault,” she repeated for what felt like the fifth time in as many minutes.

The next time she could glance at the house-elf, Ron had let go of him and Kreacher was wringing his hands in a way that made her think of Dobby.

Pushing down the cutting grief the thought elicited, Harry slowly, cautiously leaned back from the toilet, pulling a shaking hand through her hair.

“That hasn't happened before,” she said on an exhalation, eyeing the toilet with clear distaste. She fervently hoped that this wouldn't be a regular thing. Wasn't morning sickness enough!? “There was nothing wrong with your cooking, Kreacher. I guess my stomach is just more... sensitive now?” She ended the sentence on a questioning note, throwing a quick glance at Hermione, who gave an uncertain nod.

“Oh, yeah. Mum used to complain about that all the time when we were younger and didn't want to eat something,” Ron said, frowning slightly as he thought back. “Used to tell us that as long as it didn't make us throw up, we ought to be grateful and eat up.” He shrugged at Hermione's raised eyebrows. “She has a _lot_ of kids,” was his only explanation. "Of course, she had to stop doing it when George and- and Fred took it literally and, yeah. Mum was livid."

“Great,” Harry sighed, slowly standing up. The headache wasn't going away.

Rubbing absently at her forehead, Harry turned to Kreacher, who still looked upset and like he was debating ways to punish himself in ways Harry definitely wouldn't approve of.

“Kreacher, you're not allowed to punish yourself for this. None of us know what made me throw up, and until we find out, there's nothing for it but to tough it out,” she stated grimly. “Now, could you make me something simple and easily digested?” Her stomach felt sore and completely empty, and she should probably eat something. Again.

Kreacher nodded so hard his ears flapped and then popped away. Presumably back to the kitchen.

“Poor guy,” Ron commented idly and then turned concerned eyes on Harry. “Doing alright there, Harry?”

“Now I have a headache,” Harry muttered with an unhappy grimace. “This pregnant-business is not all I thought it would be.”

“You've never thought about being pregnant,” Hermione challenged amusedly, patting Harry's shoulder sympathetically.

“Details.” Harry waved her words off with a small grin. Well, she _had_ thought about it, in an abstract someday kind of way, but definitely not this soon.

"Want to lie down a while?" Ron asked, giving Harry a long, considering look. When Harry shook her head, he took a deep breath. "Then we need to figure out how to break the news to my Mum, people. She'll have kittens," he warned.

Hermione snorted, but didn't disagree.

Harry grimaced. "I swear, if she starts treating me like she does Fleur..." she grumbled, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. "Can't we just -tell them this weekend? You told me there was a family dinner?"

Ron blinked, before a slow smirk worked its way onto his freckled face. "If you drop the bomb after dessert, I bet everyone'll be relaxed and content enough that it'll take a while for the words to sink in and we can make our escape," he laughed.

Hermione groaned. "Why can't we do this like adults? You're going to be a mum, Harry!"

Harry and Ron scoffed in chorus. "You offend me, Hermione. I thought you _knew_ me by now." She grinned mischievously, bumping Ron with her shoulder as she walked past him out of the bathroom.

As they migrated back down to the kitchen, the three discussed possible ways to tell the Weasley family. It ranged from purely humorous suggestions -mainly from Harry and Ron- to serious, actually doable ones.

"Here you go, Mistress," Kreacher said, pushing a bowl with what looked like a thin soup onto the table, which was set for one at the snap of his fingers. The House-Elf hovered at her side until Harry sat down and tentatively tasted the light meal.

After one spoonful of the -very tasty- soup, she waited a heartbeat, and when her stomach didn't protest, she gratefully consumed the rest.

"Thank you, Kreacher." She smiled at the elderly House-Elf, who looked relieved enough to be close to tears. She patted him comfortingly on the arm, before turning back to her two friends. "Any ideas on how to find the unaware expecting father?"

.

.

The weekend arrived before Harry knew it, and she found herself wrestling with her nerves once again.

At least they'd worked out a plan, and Harry intended to stick with it.

The reassuring nods Ron and Hermione gave her before they flooed to the Burrow helped calm her slightly, and then Harry didn't have time to think much more, being swept into the homey warmth of Molly's welcoming arms.

"Harriet, dear!" the woman said once she'd released Harry enough to clasp her shoulders and look her over. "Are you taking proper care of yourself? You look exhausted!" she exclaimed worriedly, before herding her over to the kitchen table. "I've said it before but Kingsley is working you far too hard, my dear."

"Kingsley's actually made sure I get more time to myself now that most of the trials have been taken care off," Harry said, feeling faintly amused.

"As he should, Harriet. As he should," Molly said over her shoulder, a fair bit distracted by the feast she was cooking up.

A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione appeared in the fireplace, sending Harry quick smiles before greeting the Weasley Matriarch, who temporarily abandoned her cooking once more.

Within the next half hour, the rest of the family trickled in, some from the fireplace, others walking in over the ward lines. In no time at all, they were all seated and dinner was served.

Harry desperately hoped nothing on her plate would turn out to make her puke. It was incredibly aggravating, but she still hadn't figured out what she had reacted to. She hadn't thrown up again since that lunch, though, so she supposed that was a slight plus...

When the last of dessert had been eaten, and Molly was passing around mugs of tea and hot chocolate, Harry slowly stood up and cleared her throat.

"Um, there's something I'd like to announce to you lot," she began awkwardly once she had everyone's attention.

"Well, what is it, dear?" Molly prompted when Harry had been silence for a couple of seconds, wondering what the hell she was doing and how was she supposed to do this? Was there a proper way?

"Right. So, there's this thing I need to tell you that I suppose will affect all of us quite a bit in the future," she paused briefly, a small wry smile pulling on her lips. "It will most definitely affect _me,_ " she added at a quiet mutter that the rest of them seemed to have no trouble catching.

Other than Ron and Hermione, they were all beginning to look worryingly alarmed and George had paled dramatically, staring at Harry like he was terrified she would disappear before his eyes.

"I'm not sick!" Harry assured them quickly, feeling guilty now. "I'm just... I just happen to be pregnant," she said. She could tell none of them had registered her words yet, so Harry grasped the opportunity. "So, I'm just gonna be in the sitting room a while to let you all... digest that."

And the grabbed her hot chocolate and strode off.

By the time she had curled up with a blanket, cradling her mug in her hands, Hermione had joined her.

"Ron's keeping the fort," she said amusedly when Harry gave her a questioning look.

"Leaving him to face the wolves on his own?" Harry murmured against the rim of her mug, smiling slightly.

The next person to join them was Fleur, who strode into the room like a Queen, baby-bump and all.

"'Arry!" she said tearfully. "You do know what zis means, don't you?" she questioned, clasping Harry's hands tightly.

Harry, who had been forced to put down her mug hurriedly, blinked up at the beautiful woman. "Um."

"Our _enfants_ will go to 'Ogwarts togezer!"

Harry smiled weakly. She hadn't thought of that, so far ahead, but it was true, wasn't it? _If_ Harry carried to term.

"Hadn't thought of that, Fleur," she admitted, which prompted the woman to sit down next to her and fire a range of different questions at her.

"'Ow far along are you?"

"Just a bit over a month, I figure," Harry mumbled, picking up her hot chocolate again, trying not to use it like a protective shield from the very enthusiastic veela.

Before Fleur could get around to ask anything else -like who the father was- Ginny came strolling into the room, looking a bit shocked, but mostly entertained.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me, Harry," she said, sitting in the armchair on Harry's side of the room. "And you did the right thing, leaving the kitchen. It's a circus in there," she added, jerking her head at the door. "I almost feel bad for Ron," she mused, leaning back in her seat, looking relaxed.

"He actually volunteered," Harry offered.

Ginny snorted. "Then I take it back." She grinned wickedly, before turning to Harry, still with the same smile stretching her lips. "So it's the hot bloke from the club that's the father, right?"

Harry nodded, tired enough that she didn't even blush.

Ginny whistled. "Better you than me, I have to say. Mum might have actually grounded me for life." She shuddered dramatically, winking at Harry, whose lips twitched.

When the rest of the family finally joined them, they all settled down for a relaxed evening, sipping their preferred drink.

Harry was so grateful she nearly cried when she wasn't interrogated about it all, beyond the initial shock.

The Weasleys might not be her blood family, but Harry couldn't imagine any other option quite living up to the same standard.

-x-x-x-

 


	3. Choices, choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldtravellingfly decided to post the first chapter of her sister fic to this one! Where the premise is the same, only with Mori instead of Kyouya, so if you're interested in that, then you should definitely go give it a look :) 
> 
> It's called 'I Was Looking For You' and you can now find the link at the top of chapter 1

"Thanks for coming with me," Harry said as she slumped into the uncomfortable seat, pressing her shoulder against Ron's.

"No problem, mate," Ron muttered back. He looked about as awkward and out of place as a cat in a kennel, but was still there.

Hermione had actually been the one who'd been supposed to come with her, but Kingsley had requested a meeting, and since they couldn't just blurt the truth where anyone could hear, Hermione had agreed and plans had been changed.

"You realise what the majority of people are going to think, right?" Harry asked -again- worried that Ron would be too out of his comfort zone to be able to stay for much longer.

"Yes, Harry," Ron sighed. "If anything, I figure it's better this way. If people think I'm the -you know, then they won't give you grief over it." He shrugged embarrassedly.

Harry smiled. "You're a brilliant friend, Ron."

They fell into silence, waiting together in the bland waiting room. There were a few other people there, some couples, some lone women. Not everyone was pregnant, of course.

Harry sighed and began to look through her handbag; newly bought.

"Since when do you use one of those?" Ron asked curiously, eyeing the handbag like he had never seen one before.

Harry blinked. "A few weeks back?" she mused. Actually, Harry had ended up buying it during one of her, Ginny and Luna's shopping trips. She hadn't really thought about it back then -and not used it too much either- but she supposed it might coincide with her getting knocked up. Harry had just sort of figured that all grown women used handbags and she had simply resigned herself to her fate.

With a mental shrug, Harry took out a water bottle and a bag of almonds she'd bought this morning. Offering some to Ron, who shook his head with a bemused expression, Harry proceeded to eat her snack.

After reading the pamphlets Emma had given her, some things she hadn't really been conscious of before had made more sense. Like how thirsty she was all the time now.

"Miss Potter?" a bland voice asked into the waiting room some time later, and Harry grimaced slightly but got up.

"Want to come with?" She glanced at Ron, who shook his head.

"I'll wait here," he assured her.

Harry nodded, took a deep breath and then followed the woman into the gynaecologist's office.

"Harriet Potter?" the middle aged, greying woman asked, rising to her feet when Harry entered the room.

"Just Harry is fine, actually." Harry smiled faintly, settling into the indicated seat in front of the desk. She very carefully wasn't paying that much attention to the rest of the room.

"Well, I am Dr. Caroline Sheperd," she introduced herself as she retook her seat. "Have you ever visited a gynaecologist before?"

"No." Harry shook her head.

"I see," Dr. Shepard said, eyeing Harry expectantly. "Are you here for a basic check-up then? It wasn't very clear over the phone."

"Not really," Harry began uncertainly. "I recently found out I'm pregnant, and was told this was one of the things that needed to happen next."

The surprise on Dr. Shepard's face faded quickly, and she nodded and launched into a quick, succinct explanation of what would be happening next.

"How did you find out you were pregnant?" she questioned first.

"I did a pregnancy test," Harry replied, completely truthful. She just wouldn't inform her that the test had been magical in nature.

"And how far along would you say you were? If you had to guess?"

Harry hesitated slightly. Their night out had been in the middle of October, the fifteenth, to be exact. So did that mean she'd gotten pregnant on the sixteenth?

"One month and ten days," she said quietly.

"That's very precise," Dr. Shepard commented evenly as she wrote it down, but didn't pry. "Most women aren't sure." She smiled reassuringly.

Harry somehow managed to weakly smile back.

After a series of very personal questions that ranged from everything between her sex-life and eating-habits to her medical history and usual menstrual cycle, to which Harry tried to explain that due to a lot of stress, she hadn't been regular in nearly a year without mentioning anything about a secret magical war, she was then put through a very thorough medical examination. Her blood was taken for a number of tests, she gave a urine sample and her pelvis was examined.

Then, after all that, Dr. Shepard sat her down and explained the basics of what she could expect from the first trimester of pregnancy, which then trickled over into what to eat -how often- and what to avoid, together with a whole slew of other things.

By the time she left, Harry's head was spinning with information. There were now pre-natal vitamins in her handbag, along with several more informational pamphlets.

"How did it go?" Ron asked worriedly when she came back to the waiting room.

"Fine," Harry said dazedly. "Let's go?" she mumbled.

Ron nodded, gave her another worried once-over before grabbing her hand and leading her out of there.

"What now?" he asked once they were back outside in the weak autumn sunshine.

"I'd like to take a walk," Harry muttered, already having fallen into a brisk rhythm that Ron could easily match with his longer legs.

"Is that alright? Shouldn't you take it easy?"

"Exercise is apparently good for me as long as I don't overdo it," Harry replied absently. She'd been glad to hear it, because if she'd been expected to just sit inside for nine months, she'd go spare within a week.

And she had walked a lot in the last week. Trying to find a certain hotel without knowing its name or even what street or part of London it was located in, turned out to be just as challenging as Harry had initially assumed.

So, lots of walking around to try and find it.

At least she was fairly sure she would recognize the general area, since she'd walked around a little that morning to find a good disapparation spot.

It was too bad that you couldn't actually apparate somewhere without at least a general idea of where it was you were going...

Harry frowned.

Perhaps it would work if she focused really hard on the spot she had disapparated from?

Presenting the idea to Ron, the redhead slowly nodded, frowning slightly in thought.

"Might work," he mused, before glancing at her with concern. "Should you really risk splinching, though?"

Harry sighed. "I'll either give it a try, or I will spend the next few _months_ walking around London to try an find one bloody hotel I don't even know the name of."

"You've got a point." Ron nodded. "Wanna try now? At least I can come with and make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Yes. Let's find a good spot to disapparate," Harry said, feeling determination push all other thoughts from her mind, at least for now.

.

.

Half an hour later, Harry had apparated the both of them successfully to the spot she remembered and led them down the bustling street to the fancy hotel she could still picture perfectly in her head.

"Here it is."

"Fancy," Ron summarized with a word, looking a bit wide-eyed as he stared up at the muggle hotel. "Wealthy bloke you found yourself, Harry?" he questioned with slight amusement.

Harry rolled her eyes. "As if I care one whit about that," she snorted and tugged Ron's hand to get him moving.

The following two hours involved a lot more illegal magic than Harry would have been able to guess when they had set out. But, when the hotel personnel refused to give you the name of one of their previous customers, who just so happened to be the father of your unborn child, what was a girl supposed to do?

Disillusionment charms were fantastic, and made everything so much easier. And a few well-placed Confundus.

Figuring out the computer system was the hardest bit, especially considering Harry hadn't had any more experience with the machines than listening to Dudley talk about them with his parents -mostly complaining- when she was younger. But she made it work, and when she finally had a name, Harry returned to Ron's side with a victorious grin.

"Got it," she told the redhead, who nodded and followed her back outside.

"So?" Ron asked the moment they had gotten away from the sparse but insistent crowds of well-dressed muggles.

"Kyōya Ootori," Harry told him with a tight smile. "Now I just have to track him down. Somehow."

"Well," Ron said as they began to walk back to their apparating point. "At least you can enlist Hermione's help with that."

"True," Harry laughed and threaded her arm through Ron's and leaning her head against his upper arm.

What would she do without her friends?

.

.

Returning to the Burrow to let Molly -and whoever else was there- know how the check-up had gone, Harry and Ron didn't hesitate to walk into the warm kitchen. They could easily see her preparing lunch through the windows.

"Guess what! I finally found out wh-" Harry began, but had to cut herself off to clap a hand over her mouth and rush back outside to throw up in one of the wilting flowerbeds.

There were several exclamations from inside, and a hand on her back let her know that Ron had followed her outside.

"Are you alright, dear? Harriet?" Molly's voice asked worriedly from the door.

Harry waved a hand vaguely in her direction. To let her know she was fine, or to ask her to wait a bit longer, she wasn't sure. Either way, Harry was soon enough busy expelling another bout of stomach acid and half-digested food.

Urgh.

"Is it the same thing you reacted to last time?" Ron asked once Harry was doing nothing more than panting heavily as she supported her hands on her knees. "At least Kreacher isn't here. He looked like he wanted to kill himself last time."

She huffed a small, amused laugh and slowly stood up, taking deep breaths.

"Okay," she breathed. "Let's try that again."

And she turned back to the door, to be met with the sight of Molly and George staring worriedly at her.

"Feeling better now, dear? You should have told me there were foods you couldn't stand." Molly frowned with concern.

"It's only happened once before," Harry explained, pulling a hand -the clean one- through her hair. "I still don't know what it is," she paused, gazing at Molly speculatively. "What is it you're making?"

"A mushroom pie."

Harry felt queasy at the mere thought of consuming any of it.

She didn't understand; she loved Molly's cooking, and she'd always been fond of mushrooms, but now... bleh.

"Mushrooms are a big no," Harry choked out as she battled down her nausea.

"Very well." Molly nodded, accepting her words without any prompting or explanation needed. "I was the same with onion when I was expecting Bill, my dear," she added with a chuckle. "Just give me a moment, and I'll air out the smell."

With that, Molly withdrew her wand from her apron pocket and turned towards the kitchen, looking like she was going to war.

"Are you okay, Harry?" George asked quietly, looking her over carefully.

"Yeah. It just sucks to throw up all the time," Harry sighed and slowly began to follow the red-headed matriarch inside. When Molly waved her in, Harry slowly stepped over the threshold.

Ron gave Harry and his older brother a long look, before he strode past them and over to his mum, asking if he could help her set the table and how many people were coming?

George looked a little uncertain for a moment, before he sighed and asked, "Is this really what you want?"

Harry considered George -and the question- seriously for a long time. "I didn't plan this," she started slowly. "If I had gotten to choose, I would have probably waited a few years, but." She shrugged.

George nodded and pulled her into a tight hug. "Well, if it would happen to anyone," he mused with a small grin audible in his voice.

Harry snorted and smacked him half-heartedly on the upper arm, before hugging him back.

"What was it you wanted to tell us before you went all... pregnant on us?"

Harry eyed George with dry amusement a moment. He realised that she was pregnant all the time now, right? Even though you couldn't tell yet. Hopefully, she would be for the next eight months or so, too.

"I just wanted to tell you that I found out his full name," she said, waving a hand at her stomach.

George blinked. "And?"

"Kyōya Ootori," Harry said with a slight smile, before she let it fall off her face with a sigh. "I'm still a long way from tracking him down, though. I'm not even sure he actually lives in Britain; he was here for business."

George looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he _should_. In the end, he came to a decision. "You don't _have_ to tell him, you know?"

Harry blinked. She'd never really considered not doing so. "I really think I do," she said. "I mean, wouldn't you want to at least know?" She gazed at George, who gave a slow nod. "I will tell him, give him the opportunity to be part of it if he wants, but if he doesn't, then I think we'll be just fine here." She smiled slightly.

"Of course you will," George muttered, pulling her into another hug, before letting her go so that they could sit down by the table.

"What would you like to have for lunch, Harriet?" Molly asked.

Harry had no idea what she had done, but she couldn't smell a single trace of mushroom in the air, despite the fact that she had just put the pie down on the table in front of them.

"Something with eggs?" Harry suggested, unable to stop herself from giving the pie a disgusted look.

"Of course, dear! How do you feel about bacon? Or meat in general?"

"Meat is fine, Molly." Harry smiled and leaned back in her chair as Molly turned around, wand raised to whip up something for her.

.

.

Even with Emma giving Harry and Hermione a crash course in how to properly use a computer and navigate the internet, it took over a month for Harry to track down Kyōya, and then an additional three quarters of a month to actually be able to arrange a meeting.

The man really did _not_ live in Britain. Lived on the other side of the planet, in fact, which... complicated matters a bit.

Kyōya also seemed to be semi famous in certain circles? If she had understood everything correctly. But at least it made it slightly easier to track the man's movements.

Staring up at the very fancy hotel she had managed to confirm the man would stay in during his stay in London, Harry huddled deeper into her winter coat. It was January, cold and windy, and there was a light dusting of snow covering the streets.

With one last, deep breath, Harry scraped together her courage and went inside.

"Excuse me," she addressed the woman working behind the reception desk. "Could you call up Kyōya Ootori to let him know someone's here to talk to him?" she requested politely.

"Of course, miss," the receptionist smiled, wearing a kind of smile that didn't reach the eyes but looked perfectly professional. "Just give me one moment."

Harry nodded. She had no idea if this would actually work. If Kyōya refused, Harry would just... have to give him a hint as to who she was.

"Mr. Ootori will be down with you shortly, miss," the receptionist said as she put down the telephone and ended the call.

"Thank you. Are there perhaps a private meeting room we could use?"

The woman nodded and rang up another employee, whom promptly led Harry to a private reception room.

Once she was alone, Harry slumped down on the couch with a sigh.

This was nerve-racking.

She didn't have to wait very long before the door opened and a mildly frowning Kyōya strode into the room, looking vaguely perplexed.

Harry stood up and opened her mouth to introduce herself, in case the man had forgotten.

"Harry," Kyōya said quietly, gaze fixed on her face.

Harry slowly closed her mouth again. "Kyōya," she murmured back, head dipping in a small nod. "It's nice to see you again." Her lips twitched the slightest bit.

"It's been three months," the man said, blinking at her, before he continued into the room to take a seat in one of the two leather sofas.

Harry sank back down on the other one.

"It, ah, took a while to track you down." Harry smiled wryly, pulling absently on a lock of her hair.

The room was silent a handful of seconds, before Kyōya cleared his throat.

"Not that it's not nice to see you," he began slowly. "It does make me wonder why you'd track me down like this," he said pensively.

Harry studied him for a long moment, wondering what sort of emotions he was hiding behind that polite, pleasant mask. It had settled automatically on his features shortly after he had spotted her.

"I needed to talk to you about something fairly serious," Harry finally said, clasping her hands in her lap as she met Kyōya's gaze with no hesitation. "I'm pregnant."

Kyōya froze. Simply ceased to move and Harry let him take the time he needed to digest the news and what it meant. She had certainly panicked plenty when she had found out and it hadn't even been that sudden for her.

Seconds dragged on into minutes and Harry was getting a bit warm. With a silent sigh, she unzipped her coat and loosened the scarf around her throat, before just pulling it off completely.

"Are you-" Kyōya paused to swallow and then tried again. "Are you sure?"

Harry blinked. Was she sure she was pregnant? "Yes, very much so."

She watched as he slowly eased back against the sofa cushions, pulled off his glassed to rub at his eyes before replacing them.

"What do you want?"

Harry frowned confusedly. What did she-

"Excuse me?" she demanded calmly, feeling the first stirrings of anger, but determinedly bit it back. The man was allowed to work through his shock. "I'm here to tell you the news, Kyōya. If you want nothing to do with me, _us_ , from here on out, then that's perfectly alright with me," Harry said tiredly.

Their night together had been... amazing, but that didn't mean she would want to force him into anything. She'd rather be a single mother.

Kyōya was staring at her with something that looked like blatant disbelief, so Harry took a deep breath and continued evenly.

"This child, should I manage to carry to term, will have an abundance of uncles and aunts who will all love him or her unconditionally, and even a few cousins to play with," she explained, feeling like she was soothing the man. "It would be nice if you chose to come along for the ride; you're more than welcome to, but if you say no, I'll be gone and won't bother you again."

The child might, once he or she was old enough to track him down to find out why they'd never had a father in their life, but, that would be Kyōya's problem once the day arrived.

Kyōya chewed on that for a long time, and Harry was content to let him.

"And you're sure it's mine?" he eventually asked.

Harry felt her lips twitch. "I thought I told you that night? That sort of venture wasn't -and isn't- my usual sort of thing," she paused. "Frankly, you're the only possibility." She shrugged.

She hadn't been a virgin, but it'd been a near thing.

"This is, um..." Kyōya leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and pressing a hand over his mouth, looking like he had no idea what to do with this information.

Harry picked up her scarf from where she had put it on the sofa beside her. "Well, I'll let you think on it for a while. Want me back tomorrow or the day after?"

"Tomorrow," Kyōya murmured, still staring off into the distance, obviously lost deep in thought.

Harry nodded as she stood up and got dressed again. She paused briefly beside Kyōya, wondering if it would be alright to place her hand on his shoulder, but decided against it.

In the end, Harry left without another word.

.

.

After a long day spent doing nothing but wait, Harry returned the next morning.

When she walked into the hotel, the receptionist recognized her from the day before and waved her over.

"Mr. Ootori told me to send you right in, miss," she said, and when Harry nodded, looking unsurprised, she called over another employee, who took her to another private room this time.

Kyōya was waiting for her inside.

"Good morning," Harry greeted politely as she divested herself of her coat and scarf, and sat down on the empty sofa.

Kyōya's gaze lingered on her stomach, something Harry was perfectly happy to ignore. He, if anyone, was excused to stare a little.

"So," Harry said once she had seated herself. "Have you thought about it?"

"I- I have," Kyōya said on a slow exhalation. "I've thought of little else since you left," he admitted.

Harry nodded. That _had_ been the point, actually.

There were two ways their future could unfold in front of them now, and they were both overly aware of it as they gazed at each other.

"And what did you decide?"

Kyōya took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and released it with a breathless laugh that sounded a bit frayed around the edges.

"I have no idea how to be a- a parent, but," he rubbed a hand over his face, pushing his glasses up, before straightening and looking Harry straight in the eye. "If you're willing, I'd like to- to try."

Harry smiled, a small, almost shy thing that still conveyed all the warmth she had to offer.

"Great." She relaxed. That was that. "How do you want to go about doing this?" she asked next, settling down to hammer out some tentative terms.

Kyōya straightened and leaned back, slinging an arm over the back of the sofa he was occupying. "I was thinking about it most of the night," he confessed. "And, this might sound _utterly insane_ , but how would you feel about going on a trip with me?"

Harry stared. That... had not been what she was expecting. At all.

"A... trip?" she questioned mildly.

"Considering that you tracked me down, you must have found out about my," he grimaced a little, "status. It's just a matter of time before this hits the press back home and I'd rather not attempt to get to know the mother of my potential child with paparazzi dodging our every move."

Harry bit back a groan. Great, this would mean she couldn't even be anonymous in the muggle world, she realised. Not that... that was all that possible now a days anyway, but.

"Where would you want to go? For how long?" she questioned tentatively. She wasn't adverse to the idea, but it was a bit strange. For all that they were expecting a child together, they didn't _know_ each other.

It was a peculiar situation.

Kyōya shrugged. "I've been most places already, so I'd leave it up to you," he said, not sounding bothered. "And as for how long..." he trailed off for a second. "I'd like to see how well we get along."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Leaving Britain for a while actually sounded like a marvellous idea. She was already showing a little, too, so it was just a matter of time before someone noticed her stomach. It'd be a riot, and _her_ kind of paparazzi would be able to apparate.

Oh, joy.

"It sounds like a good idea," she finally said, making Kyōya blink. As if he hadn't genuinely thought she'd agree. "Do you have _any_ preferences for travel destinations? At all?" she asked.

"No." Kyōya smiled slightly. He looked almost resigned to his fate, even if that sounded a bit too dramatic.

"Then I'd like to go to Switzerland," Harry said, feeling pleased.

Kyōya almost started, looking pleasantly surprised. As if he had been expecting something completely different. "Oh?"

Harry nodded. "I have some business to attend there, and it's a very nice country for all that I haven't really had time to see much of it."

The man looked curious, but didn't ask what she did for a living -something she was silently grateful for; let's leave that for later- and instead continued to plan their impromptu trip.

A family trip, wasn't it? Harry thought amusedly.

"Time restraints won't be an issue for me in quite some time; I can work from a distance." He shrugged elegantly.

"I don't have any urgent responsibilities that can't be handled by people I trust," Harry returned, thinking about it.

She'd have to tell Kingsley, at least, but the man knew how to keep a secret. And it wasn't like she would be unreachable.

Hermione might have a thing or two to say about her skipping out of England, but she'd understand in the end. She always did.

"When would you like to leave?" she asked next, watching the man curiously.

"I'll have to wrap up my business meetings first, so say, about a week in London? And then we'll grab a flight," Kyōya suggested.

Harry nodded. "That will leave me plenty of time to prepare as well," she said, pleased. "Will you be busy all the time until then? I was thinking we might be able to grab dinner and start on that getting to know each other business."

"A few dinner dates sounds lovely." Kyōya smiled slightly, before he turned pensive. "Harry, do you mind me asking? But, considering the last time I was in town, you ought to be about three months pregnant now," he trailed off a little, and Harry nodded, curiously wondering where he was going with this. "Would you mind showing me...?" His gaze dropped to her stomach as he left the sentence unfinished.

Harry smiled. She didn't know how many times she'd been asked to show off the still rather small baby bump by now. Even though her slight frame made it look more pronounced than it might otherwise have been.

But, she supposed, that was the consequences of being the first among her age group to become pregnant.

"Not at all," she said, standing up and pulling off her knitted jumper. "It's not all that big yet, but, well, you'll see." She grinned a little and pulled up the t-shirt she was wearing and then unbuttoned her jeans to let him see it clearly.

She'd gotten over her shyness about this ever since she'd told the rest of her friends and they'd all demanded to see the bump.

Once she'd exposed her lower stomach, she turned so that she stood with her side facing Kyōya, ensuring that he'd be able to see the small, but definitely noticeable bump where the baby was growing.

Kyōya stared, as if transfixed and one of his hands reached out, seemingly of its own volition, before he caught himself and flicked a questioning look up in the direction of Harry's eyes.

After a brief moment of deliberation, she nodded.

Kyōya's fingers bushed against the slightly distended skin, tracing it from one end to the other, feeling the outward curve with his own hands.

It was... strangely intimate, and Harry did nothing to hurry him along.

Once he was satisfied, Kyōya splayed his hand over her lower stomach, completely covering the bump, before he slowly leaned back. He blinked repeatedly, as if coming back to himself and realising what he had been doing.

Harry stared back at him, ignoring the slight blush on her cheeks and sending him a quicksilver smile.

Giving him some time to compose himself, Harry focused all her attention on buttoning up her trousers, righting her t-shirt and then pulling her jumper back on to ward off the winter chill.

When she turned back to Kyōya, he still looked a little wide-eyed with awe, even though he was mostly successful in hiding it.

She smiled. "When would you like to have that first date?" She laughed a little. "We're doing all of this in completely the wrong order, you realise?"

Kyōya snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to hide a smile.

.

.

"How did it go?" Was the first thing Harry heard when she stepped out of the floo. Blinking a bit at the crowd waiting for her, she took her time dusting herself off.

After her pregnancy had hit the three month thresh-hold, it was no longer considered safe for her to apparate. It was a bit of a bother, but she managed.

Harry slowly took off her coat and scarf, knowing very well that basically all the Weasleys and a few extras were on the edge of their seats -so to speak- for her to tell them.

"He's staying," she finally declared, once she deemed they had waited with bated breath long enough.

"Congratulations!" Ginny cheered, bouncing up to her to pull her into an overly careful hug.

Harry rolled her eyes and hugged Ginny back far tighter than the younger girl had first intended. She wasn't _that_ fragile.

"It _is_ a good thing, right?" George mused, but he looked pleased for her.

Harry nodded. "We're actually having dinner tomorrow night to start the whole getting-to-know-each-other thing." She grinned a little.

"You mean like a date?" Ginny asked quietly next to her ear, a teasing tone to her voice.

Harry smacked her playfully on the arm but didn't contradict her, which Ginny obviously noticed.

"I am very 'appy for you, 'Arry," Fleur said, working herself to her feet to slowly make her way over. Harry eyed her large stomach with some trepidation, but gladly reciprocated the -slightly awkward- hug. "No woman should be alone for somezing like zis." She smiled, mentioning at both of their stomachs.

"Thank you, Fleur." Harry smiled back.

"Well? What else? I can see on your face that that's not all!" Hermione pressed, looking happy for her, but a little worried, too.

"He asked if I'd like to go on a trip with him," Harry said, knowing the most likely reactions to _that_.

The kitchen was silent a long moment, before Hermione groaned. "Harry, you _didn't_!"

"What?" Harry asked, feeling exasperated. "It's not like he just dragged me out of the country! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"But you said yes!" Ginny exclaimed, looking positively giddy.

"Well, yeah," Harry snorted at Hermione's horrified expression. "Hermione, he asked me if I'd be willing, and when I said yes, he let me decide destination."

"That's... good, right?" Ron asked uncertainly, glancing from Harry to his girlfriend and back again, as if he couldn't seem to decide which one of them to side with.

Molly sighed and shared a long look with Arthur, before she pulled Harry into a tight embrace. "As long as you're happy, dear," she told her quietly. "Sometimes, there a purpose behind the strangest things, Harriet. Give it a shot and see where it takes you," she advised, before pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead.

"Thank you, Molly." Harry smiled, suddenly feeling like she was about to burst into tears.

Which was far from the first time since this entire thing started.

"So you're going on a trip? Where to?" Ginny brought things back on track, looking like this was the most interesting thing that had happened to -or around, as the case may be- her for months. "For how long?" she added, looking pensive now.

"I suggested Switzerland and he didn't disagree," she said, rolling her eyes again. "I have business there anyway, so. And we didn't decide," Harry continued. "We'll see how well we get along and go from there." She shrugged.

"Well, you're gonna have to come home soon enough," Bill said with a crooked grin, tipping his head at his rather pregnant wife. "We're due in late April."

"You think I would miss it?" Harry questioned with mock-outrage.

"Don't forget Teddy's birthday either," Andromeda said, looking patiently amused from the back of the room, where she was sitting in a kitchen chair with the boy in question cradled in her arms. He was nearly a year old now, just a few months off.

"You people insult me." Harry grinned.

"We all know you too well." George smiled, slinging his arm over her shoulders in a loose, one-armed hug.

"Yeah, yeah. My reckless days are over; I'm gonna be a mum, you know," Harry shot back, making George, Hermione, Ron and Ginny all groan. "What?"

"Can you imagine Harry's kid? If he or she inherits even a fraction of Harry's luck, it's going to be a nightmare to keep them out of trouble!" Ron groaned dramatically.

"Really?" Harry questioned flatly. "I thought you were supposed to be kind to women in my condition, not pick on them," she mused dryly, snorting when George pulled her tighter against his side and pressed a quick kiss against her hair.

"Don't worry, Harry-kins. I'm always on your side," he assured her.

"Thanks, George."

-x-x-x-

 


	4. Air Travel and Revelations

"All packed?" Kyōya asked with a smile when Harry came walking up to him outside the hotel he had been staying in.

"All packed," Harry confirmed with a nod, returning the half-hug Kyōya pulled her into, seemingly automatically. "All your business meetings wrapped up?"

"Everything that can't be dealt with from abroad." Kyōya nodded and picked up Harry's travel bag. "You're travelling lightly," he commented mildly, and Harry knew he had picked up on a good few... _oddities_ when it came to Harry's life, but he hadn't asked yet and she planned to tell him once they got to Switzerland.

The fact that he was the father of her child gave her a _lot_ of leeway when it came to the Statute of Secrecy.

"I have plenty of acquaintances in Switzerland," Harry said with an unconcerned shrug. "Are we ready to go?"

Kyōya eyed her with amused speculation, but nodded. "We are. Our car should arrive any moment- ah, here it is." He motioned with a hand at the fancy black car wheeling slowly down the road towards them, until it came to a stop barely a step away. "You've said your farewells to your family and friends?"

"They're a bit sad to see me go, but they understand." Harry nodded, one hand unconsciously moving to press gently against the front of her stomach as Kyōya opened the car door for her and urged her to take a seat. "Thank you," she said as she slid into the car, perfectly at ease to let Kyōya deal with her luggage and talk to the driver, who had stepped around the car while they spoke.

The man soon enough joined her in the back-seat, having handed both their luggage over to the driver to stash in the trunk.

Kyōya settled in next to her, fastened his seatbelt and then, after a brief pause and a considering glance at her, took Harry's hand in his.

"Does this make you uncomfortable?" he asked idly, squeezing her fingers gently to underline what it was he was talking about.

"No, Kyōya. It doesn't bother me." Harry shook her head, smiling slightly. "I can honestly say that I like you a lot so far."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kyōya murmured, not letting go of her hand until they reached the airport and had to get out of the car.

Harry had never travelled by plane before. The only way she'd gone to Switzerland before was by Portkey. Which was faster, but no doubt far more uncomfortable than what Kyōya had arranged for them.

The crowds at the airport were a bit... harrowing, though Harry weathered it out by sheer determination and stubbornness.

Kyōya noticed her discomfort, and somehow managed to intimidate everyone around them to _hurry up_.

Once they were seated on the plane, in luxurious seats that felt more like armchairs than anything Harry had ever heard of in reference to air-travel, she slipped her hand into Kyōya's larger one and gave it a grateful squeeze.

"You're alright?" Kyōya asked her, a touch concerned.

"Yeah. Just," she sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes, "crowds make me uneasy," she murmured.

Kyōya said nothing but tightened his hold on her hand.

.

.

Harry dozed lightly for one and a half hour, and then they were landing.

"That was fast," she murmured tiredly.

"That's what happens when you nap," Kyōya chuckled, just laughing louder when Harry grimaced at him.

"I'd love to see how you would cope with this," she muttered, motioning vaguely towards her stomach with a flick of her fingers. "You wouldn't believe how tired it makes me some days," she mumbled, most of all wanting to slump back down and fall back asleep.

Kyōya tugged gently on her hand, though, coaxing her up on her feet.

"Slave-driver," Harry accused sleepily, blinking blearily up at the man.

"Not the first time I've been accused of that, actually," he remarked amusedly as he carefully guided her off the plane, nodding a passing farewell to the flight attendants, who were smiling at the -unintentionally- adorable picture they made. "Of course, those accusers were far from as lovely as you are," he added with a charming smirk that made Harry scoff.

"Of course, your Majesty," she drawled back, despite the fact that she still couldn't quite manage to open her eyes entirely.

For some reason, her words made Kyōya snort with muffled snickers.

"Please never call me that again," he damn near begged her once he could speak in a somewhat even voice, sounding far more amused than upset or even vaguely unhappy.

Harry smiled bemusedly up at him, but shrugged the strange reaction off. "What happens now?" she asked.

"We go through customs, get our luggage and then head for the hotel," Kyōya told her, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as he led her through the airport, looking like he knew exactly where he was going.

It made Harry wonder if he'd ever been here before.

Zurich was a lovely city, and once they exited the airport, a car was already waiting for them, just as fancy as the one in London had been.

She sent Kyōya an exasperated look, but was just grateful enough to be able to sit back down.

"Hotel next?" she clarified, tilting to the side until she was slumped against Kyōya's upper arm.

"Yes. I've alerted them of our arrival," he said. "Before you go back to sleep, I have a question for you, Harry."

Harry straightened up and roused herself enough to pay Kyōya proper attention, meeting his gaze.

"Yes?" she prompted quietly when Kyōya remained pensively silent.

"It might be presumption of me, but I've gotten the impression that you would like to give this," he hesitated slightly, before pressing on, "a real shot." He eyed her expectantly until Harry nodded. "So, for our housing during our stay, would you like to have separate rooms or a shared one?"

Harry blinked. Then she actually thought about it.

She wanted to give this an honest chance. If they fell in love, that would be wonderful, but spending the future with Kyōya as her friend would be nice too. Either way, she was willing to find out what would happen as they got to know each other properly.

"I think I'd like to try the shared one," she eventually said, leaning back and gazing up into Kyōya's eyes. "But there're a few things we need to cover for that to work."

Kyōya nodded, looking like he had expected it.

"First of all, I'm not sure I'll be comfortable sharing a bed with you right from the start, but I'm willing to try," she confessed, absently wondering when she had gotten so good at talking about her emotions. Hermione should be proud. "On that same note, we might _sleep_ in the same bed, but nothing more," Harry said simply.

"I wasn't expecting anything more," Kyōya said firmly.

At least he was taking this seriously. Now to the weird parts.

"Great. I feel the need to inform you, again, that I am pregnant," she continued, and at Kyōya's raised eyebrow, Harry rolled her eyes and continued. "That means that I'm a strange, mystical creatures that men tend to fear due to these horrible, awful things known as pregnancy hormones."

Kyōya actually snorted. "I never told you just what it is I do for a living, did I?"

"Not even remotely." Harry smiled.

"I'm a certified doctor," he said, smiling right back. "I didn't specialize in Obstetrics, but I do know a thing or two about anatomy, and that includes the basics of human reproduction."

Harry was silent for the longest time.

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes, though I haven't worked in a clinic since I finished my residency," he said, before continuing with, "I also have a degree in Business Management."

Harry laughed a little. "How old are you again?" she asked jokingly.

Kyōya smiled, but wasn't derailed. "I'm fairly aware, in theory at least, what pregnancy entails, Harry. Hormones, constipation, cravings and swollen ankles included."

"So romantic," Harry sighed, leaning against him again. "Charmer. You know just what to say to sway a girl's heart."

He snorted. "You have no idea, Harry," he told her, suppressed laughter and amusement fairly dripping from his voice.

Harry squinted up at him suspiciously, but dropped it without a fight.

There would be plenty of time to share all the juicy details later, she thought with a mental grimace. She doubted Kyōya's mental baggage was anywhere _near_ as heavy as her own.

So that was something to look forward to.

.

.

Before they reached the hotel, Harry asked that they stop by a convenience store.

Kyōya, looking more indulgent than anything else, obligingly asked the driver to make a quick stop.

"You are aware that the hotel has plenty of food?" he asked amusedly as he trailed after Harry into the store.

"Of course they do," Harry replied absently, picking up a plastic basket to put her wares in. "But I doubt they'd be willing to give me some of the things I have severe cravings for," she added with a rueful smile.

_Of course_ she would end up with the weird cravings. Ron and George had been laughing at her when they found out, while Ginny and Hermione were simply confused.

"Sounds interesting," Kyōya murmured, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"That's surely one way to put it," she replied absently as she began to look for the vegetable section. "Ah, here we are." she smiled and hurried her steps a little.

Kyōya watched her with growing incredulity as Harry loaded five broccoli stalks into her basket, together with a ten kilo bag of potatoes. Before they had left the vegetable section entirely, she had also picked up a few additional things, like baby spinach, grapes, apples and a lot of oranges.

Then she added almonds and walnuts and whatever nuts they had, really, a package of eggs and two large bars of high quality chocolate.

"Are you planning to dine with me at all?" Kyōya asked with amusement, a bemused expression on his handsome face.

Harry glanced down at her over-loaded basket with reluctant amusement. "I'll still eat with you," she promised. "It's just, I was told to try and gain as much weight as I could, and to eat whenever I felt like it. So." She shrugged and lifted the basket a little.

Kyōya eyed her seriously a moment, before he plucked the basket from her fingers to carry it to the register for her.

"Would you be adverse to let me help you find a new doctor for you?" he asked quietly as they waited in line to pay.

Harry tilted her head. "No." She sighed. "There are a few things we need to talk about first, though."

Kyōya looked like he had a full list of questions to ask, but simply nodded his acceptance.

This wasn't the time or place for a conversation like that.

"Let me-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry snorted and pulled out her wallet -newly bought, but spelled against everything Hermione had been able to imagine- to pull out the appropriate amount of Swiss Franc. "I can pay for myself."

Yeah, that was another thing she would need to talk to Kyōya about... she knew that he was rather well off, but he had no idea about Harry's veritable fortune.

"Do you always have foreign currency with you?" the man asked curiously, eyeing the bills she handed over to the woman working the register.

Harry knew he knew they hadn't stopped to exchange any pounds since they left London.

"I've found it to be rather convenient to have at least some Swiss Franc close at hand, yes," Harry said, taking Kyōya's hand and pulling him with her out to the car, her bag of groceries in his other hand.

Kyōya's fingers tightened around her hand, and she knew that the first of their -anticipated- serious conversations were fast approaching.

.

.

"You really have a love for extravagant hotels, don't you?" Harry asked, feeling a mix of amused and mildly exasperated as she gazed up at the building Kyōya had had them stop at.

"I have the means for it," Kyōya replied evenly. "I see no reason why I should settle for less. Comfort and class are important."

Harry huffed a small laugh but didn't contradict him.

She wasn't used to it, but it wasn't like it was hurting anyone.

"Lead the way, then," Harry said, dry amusement colouring her voice.

While Kyōya spoke to one of the employees working the reception desk, Harry took a seat in a nearby armchair, sinking into the soft cushions with a tired sigh.

Despite sleeping on the plane, she most of all wanted to take another nap. Maybe eat a few of the snacks she'd just bought.

She was distantly aware of Kyōya making sure there was a small refrigerator in their rooms, but she was exhausted enough to leave him to it.

"Come, Harry," Kyōya helped her to her feet and guided her to the elevator a short distance away, leaving the driver that had picked them up at the airport to bring up their bags.

"Sorry," she apologized, rubbing a hand over her face in an attempt to wake up.

"Don't worry about it. You can take a proper nap once we've taken a look at the suite. I need to take care of a few business-related things anyway."

"Okay," Harry yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

The suite was nice, despite what Harry might feel about the sheer extravagance. It wasn't overly pompous, going for a modern style with clean lines and soft colours when they weren't black or white.

"I think the bedroom is this way," Kyōya said, smiling slightly at Harry, who was blinking blearily around them. "Come." And he tugged gently on her hand to encourage her to follow him.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled as she kicked off her shoes, lifted the covers and slipped under them. She settled her head on the soft pillow with a content sigh and almost immediately drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, a soft but strange clicking noise made her brows pull together slightly.

Blinking her eyes open, Harry peered in the direction the sound was coming from, only to find herself staring at Kyōya, who was sitting on the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, with his back against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles.

There was a very small computer on his lap, that he was typing away at.

Harry blinked again. "Morning," she said, announcing that she was awake, making the man glance down at her.

"Sleep well?" he asked, before his gaze was drawn back to something on the computer screen.

Harry was fairy sure that one was called a laptop? Or something? Emma's crash-course had contained a _lot_ of information.

"Yes," she said, pushing herself into a sitting position. "How long did I sleep?" she asked, glancing around. She hadn't paid that much attention to the bedroom before, other than to zero in on the bed.

One wall was taken up by three large, floor to ceiling windows that let in a lot of natural light. The walls were cream white with a soft blue pattern, with matching details scattered about the room.

It was lovely.

"About two hours," Kyōya said, pulling her attention back to him. "I was going to try and wake you in just another few minutes, actually. Are you hungry?" he inquired, finally closing his computer and placing it on the bedside table.

"Starving," Harry said, blinking at the realisation. She peeled the covers back with a sigh and got to her feet, stretching a little to work out the kinks in her back. "What did you have in mind?"

"If you'd be so inclined, I'd like to take you out," Kyōya said, still sitting on the bed, arms crossed in front of his chest in a relaxed manner.

He'd actually changed clothes while Harry had been sleeping, now that she was paying attention.

Harry tilted her head. "I'm not sure I have anything appropriate to wear, if you're planning to take me to one of those stuffy places you seem to like so much." She smirked when Kyōya scoffed light-heartedly.

"So we'll get you something on the way," he said, blatantly unconcerned.

Harry laughed a little. "Fine. Why not?" she said, starting to look around for her bag. At least she could change out of her travel clothes; which were also rumpled from her sleeping in them.

She found it standing on a padded chair in a corner of her side of the room.

Harry opened it and dug through it quickly; the interior was much larger than the exterior suggested, before she pulled out a pair of nice jeans and a simple, long-sleeved blouse.

Hermione and Ginny had both taken extreme exception to Harry's wardrobe once the war was finally over and had helped her get a new one. Luna had tagged along seemingly for the fun. She didn't have a single piece of Dudley's old cast-offs left.

Once she had gathered what she wanted, she wandered into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving Kyōya sitting on the bed.

As she stripped to take a quick shower, she wondered why it didn't feel more awkward.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry emerged, clean, dressed and ready to go.

"Ready?" Kyōya questioned and smiled when Harry nodded. "I've found a suitable store and called ahead to let them know we're coming."

"Of course you did." Harry shook her head with helpless amusement.

She'd started to get to know Kyōya properly no more than a week ago, but she couldn't say she was surprised.

"Shall we?" he asked, looking pleased with himself.

"After you," Harry waved a hand in the direction of the door and fell into step with Kyouya when he took her hand and tugged her along.

.

.

Harry eyed herself in the mirror with some reluctance.

She had made it perfectly clear that she didn't want anything low-cut or generally revealing, with long sleeves and preferably covering her legs.

The shop assistant had looked disappointed and a little perplexed, but hadn't complained and obligingly gathered a selection of dresses that met with Harry's criteria.

The burgundy evening gown she was currently wearing covered her from her neck, down to her hands and just about left her feet visible beneath the hem. It was loose, simple, floating around her legs and very comfortable.

She wasn't sure what brand it was but she believe the shop assistant had mentioned an Italian sounding name? Valentino? Or something close to 'Valentine' at least, which had made it stick in her head.

Turning slightly in front of the mirror, Harry scrutinized her reflection, watching the fabric of the dress slide over he curves.

At least it made it near-impossible to tell that she was pregnant, she mused.

The shop assistant hesitantly came back into the fitting room with a selection of different shoes on a tray in her hands.

"Madam?" she questioned softly, making Harry turn away from the mirror to look at her directly. "Shoes."

Harry smiled faintly at the woman, before focusing on the foot wear. All of them had high heels, she noted a bit unhappily, but at least she wouldn't be dancing this time.

"These ones, I think," Harry muttered as she chose a pair, before sitting down in one of the chairs to put them one.

Standing up again, she eyed herself in the mirror and then nodded.

"Yes, these will be excellent, thank you," and with that, she strode out of the spacious dressing rooms to where Kyōya was waiting. "Well? Is this acceptable?" she asked, spreading her arms a little and turning on the spot.

"You look amazing," Kyōya said, lips curling into a small smile she couldn't quite read the reason for.

"Thank you. Can we go eat now?"

"Hair first," Kyōya said, like it was obvious.

Harry sighed, but didn't protest when Kyōya went over to talk quietly with the shop assistant, who nodded and turned to Harry with an excited smile.

Harry sighed, again, but resigned herself to let the woman do something with her hair.

Fifteen minutes later, her hair had been pulled back into a simple but elegant bun and Harry was determined that this was enough; she was hungry!

"This time I insist, Harry," Kyōya said as they moved to the register, the dress flowing around Harry's ankles like condensed air. "I was the one who wanted us to go," he pointed out.

Harry huffed. "If it's so important to you, then fine. You can pay, Kyōya." And she graciously didn't say anything else.

When they finally returned to the car, she was pleased to note that they hadn't spent more than a little over an hour inside the store.

"To the restaurant now, sir?" the driver asked evenly, to which Kyōya gave an affirmative.

Harry watched the early evening crowd on the streets of Zurich glide past them outside the car window, absently running her fingers over the soft fabric of the dress against her thigh.

"Feeling alright?" Kyōya asked quietly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, just hungry," Harry replied, sending him a brief, reassuring smile. She was still a bit tired, too, though that was most likely from the flight.

When the car stopped, Kyōya got out first, before helping Harry climb out and then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her inside.

The place was... _fancy_ , though Harry felt she had used the word far too much lately. Definitely high class and she could tell it was ridiculously expensive at a mere glance.

Kyōya didn't so much as blink, though, and Harry let him lead her after the maitre'd to their table with silent exasperation. It was a nice gesture, she supposed, but Kyōya didn't have to impress her with his money, or try to sweep her off her feet acting like a prince.

She didn't need a prince or a knight in shining armour.

What she'd really like, though, was a partner.

"Thank you," Harry murmured when the waiter pulled out the chair for her and she gratefully took a seat. "Well, this place seems nice," she said, voice a bit dry, turning to Kyōya.

"I've been before," he said with a slight shrug. "I have friends who spend time semi-annually in Switzerland," he explained.

"Any particular dishes you can recommend?"

"Everything's excellent, so it all depends on what you wish to eat, Harry." Kyōya smiled and accepted his menu from the same waiter.

Harry got hers after that, and began to peruse the list of dishes.

"I think I'd like to have something with meat," she mused out loud. "The entrecote, what do they serve with it?" she asked the waiter, who quickly launched into a list of different options. Harry nodded along. "Stir-fried vegetables and potatoes," she finally decided, handing the menu back.

"And drink, madam?"

"Any good juices?" she asked, feeling amused when the man blinked several times with surprise.

"We have several selections that are all freshly pressed," he confirmed, giving her a smaller menu that Harry looked through, before deciding on grapefruit juice. "And you, sir?"

Harry listened curiously when Kyōya asked about the wine selection, and then settled on one that sounded expensive.

"Where did you go to school?" Harry asked once they were alone. "Getting a Doctorate and a degree in Business management roughly at the same time sounds exhausting."

"The University of Tokyo," Kyōya said, leaning back in his chair and giving Harry his full attention. "I started on my Business Degree in Middle School, actually, so I could start my own business in High School. That meant I could focus on my medical studies for the most part once it was time for University."

"That sounds amazing," Harry mused. Kyōya and Hermione might get along terrifyingly well, actually. If they ever went on a double date, she would be grateful to have Ron.

"What about you?" Kyōya asked carefully. It was the first time they had edged in on this territory.

Harry smiled ruefully. "Not much of an education, I'm afraid," she sighed. "There were some extenuating circumstances, so I couldn't even finish my last year of obligatory schooling. And then I came into my inheritance, which needed to be sorted through and managed."

Kyōya blinked, taking that in for a moment. "Sounds like there's a story there," was his eventual response.

"Oh, there is," Harry snorted inelegantly. "Not fit for places like this though." She waved a hand at the glamorous restaurant around them.

Kyōya inclined his head the slightest in acceptance, before changing the subject. "You've mentioned your family several times before," he said leadingly.

Harry smiled. "We're not actually related," she revealed. "At least not closely enough for it to count." She shrugged. "My parents died when I was very young, and I was raised at my Aunt's. The Weasleys all but took me in when I was twelve."

Kyōya tilted his head, and there was a sharp light in his eyes that let her know he had a lot of questions that he was doing his best not to ask just yet.

"I suppose I will... meet them eventually?" he asked tentatively, not saying a thing about her Aunt.

Harry smiled. "I'm going to have to go back before the 21st of April; it's my godson's birthday. He's turning one."

The waiter chose that moment to bring their drinks, and Harry silently sipped on her juice while Kyōya tasted and accepted his wine.

"Then Fleur, who's married to one of the Weasley sons, is due at the end of April, too, so I'd like to think you'll get to meet them all properly. If you want to."

Kyōya looked intently at his wine glass for a long moment, as if deep in thought. In the end, he grimaced slightly and met Harry's gaze with a serious one of his own.

"My upbringing wasn't the most ideal, perhaps, and I might be a bit," he hesitated slightly, "awkward, but I'd like to come along."

Harry gave him a wide, grateful smile that made Kyōya blink and stare.

"So we can both brag about less than perfect childhoods, then?" Harry asked in a light-hearted tone of voice. "At least we'll know what _not_ to do."

As she'd spoken, one of her hands had wandered down to hold her stomach, and she smiled a little as she felt the small bump.

It had been an accident, and entirely unplanned, but, Harry was already in love with the little lump.

At her words, Kyōya smiled with reluctant amusement, before he raised his glass in a rueful toast.

They chatted quietly about not so important things for a while after that, until one of the waiters walked past with a couple of plates for a table farther into the dining room.

Harry got one whiff of the food and felt bile rise in her throat as her stomach rebelled.

Without a word to Kyōya, Harry was on her feet and rushing for the bathroom, which was thankfully not as far from their table as it could have been, one hand pressed over her mouth.

She garnered a fair bit of attention, but she didn't have time to care. She did _not_ want to throw up on the floor.

Throwing the bathroom door open, Harry dashed for the closest toilet, threw open that door as well and then emptied her stomach into the shiny porcelain bowl. She remained crouched for a full minute, first heaving and then just breathing heavily.

There was a tentative knock on the door, accompanied by a deep, familiar voice.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, you can come in," Harry said, not wanting to move from her crouch until she was one hundred percent sure that she wasn't about to throw up again.

"Are you alright?" Kyōya asked, silently closing the door behind him.

"Looks like fish is off the menu for the foreseeable future," Harry laughed humourlessly. "That makes two things that make me puke."

"Can I get you anything?" Kyōya inquired quietly, hovering uncertainly behind her.

"Some water would be nice," Harry replied after a thoughtful pause. And it would give the man something to do. She had noticed that the people around her always seemed to feel largely useless when she got like this, and always reacted better when she gave them something small to occupy themselves with. The only ones who weren't really faced by her various strange reactions were Molly and Fleur, who had both experienced it themselves.

"I'll be back in a moment," Kyōya said and left to get her what she'd asked for.

Harry just breathed while she waited, for Kyōya to come back, for her stomach to settle.

When she no longer felt nauseous, Harry slowly leaned back until she was no longer hanging over the toilet bowl.

"Feeling better?" Kyōya asked when he returned, a glass with cold water in one hand, which he handed her once he had made sure she'd be able to hold it.

Harry nodded, took a sip to rinse out her mouth before she spat in the toilet, flushed and then drank a couple of mouthfuls to soothe her throat.

"That is just as unpleasant every time it happens," she sighed tiredly, handing the glass back to Kyōya to wash her hands and splash a bit of water on her face.

"You mentioned something else you've reacted to?"

"Mushrooms." Harry grimaced with disgust. "I usually like them, but since I got pregnant? Can't stand even the smell of them."

"Good to know," Kyōya gave a weak smile and carefully led her back into the restaurant, where Harry weathered the curious looks without batting an eye.

At least no one was blatantly gawking at her.

Harry pressed one hand to her mouth, taking a deep breath through her nose, before she managed to relax somewhat again.

"Sorry for that interruption," she said once they were seated by their table once more, giving a wry smile.

"Madam," the maitre'd approached their table with an apologetic expression on his face. "We do apologize for the inconvenience."

Harry waved the apology aside. "That's quite alright. If I didn't know about it myself, then there certainly wasn't anything you could have done to prevent it," she assured him with a sincere, reassuring look. "I would appreciate it if you didn't carry any seafood dishes right by our table again, though, if you can help it."

"I shall notify my waiters, madam," he promised without pause, looking relieved behind the polite, professional mask. "Your dinner will arrive shortly, Mr. Ootori," he finished, nodding respectfully to Kyōya, deep enough that it was nearly a bow.

Harry turned back to Kyōya with a raised eyebrow.

Kyōya merely took a sip of his wine, and Harry obligingly dropped the subject, since it was something the man wasn't comfortable discussing just yet.

"Are there any things in particular you would like to do while we're here?" Harry asked, taking a small mouthful of her juice to get rid of the last taste of bile coating her tongue.

"You mentioned that you had business here?" Kyōya asked, instead of answering right away.

Harry nodded. "I'd like to visit my bank and talk to my account manager about a few issues," she said, unable to stop herself from cradling her stomach again.

There wasn't a war hanging over her head any more, but the Potter family hadn't had a whole lot of luck on the family front in a couple generations, and Harry wasn't willing to take _any_ chances with her child's future.

It wasn't like she wasn't still a target, though all the known Death Eaters had been caught and incarcerated. The Witch-Who-Won was too well-known in the Magical world for her to be perfectly safe from the average maniac. Made too big of a target.

"And you think that will take a lot of time?" Kyōya asked, tilting his head thoughtfully.

"That depends on Mr. Spearhand," she said, perfectly capable of seeing Kyōya's disbelieving expression. She wasn't going to tell him more than that right this instant, though. They'd have to have that talk about Magic first for that to be possible. "Yes, that is his last name." She grinned a little. "But I wouldn't be adverse to seeing more of the country after that, though."

"I shall look into it then," Kyōya said on an exhalation. "You do realise that we will need to have a few serious conversations?" He looked a bit tense at the prospect, but the stubborn set of his jaw told her he would do it anyway.

Harry's smile faded from her face, replaced by a serious expression. "I do, and we will. We just need to be a bit more comfortable with each other first."

Their food arrived just then, and Harry smiled absently at the waiter as he placed her very nice looking -and smelling- meal in front of her, lost in thought.

How would Kyōya react to the existence of magic? Would he... run for the hills?

He'd been so nice to her so far, and- she could really start to see herself sharing a future with the man. In what form, she still wasn't sure, but she was growing fond of him alarmingly quickly.

She wanted him to be the father of their child, his or her _Dad_. More than just an impersonal title and actually part of their child's everyday life.

If he was scared off by her being a witch... Harry didn't know what she'd do.

The thought of going back to the single-mother plan now, when she had gotten to know Kyōya a little better wasn't what she wanted.

"You're very quiet. Not feeling well after all?" Kyōya asked after a moment of silence where both of them focused on their own meal.

"Just thinking," Harry said, glancing up at him, before turning back to her delicious meal. "I'm wondering what it will take to send you running for the hills," she admitted mildly. She could just as well prepare him now to the fact that there was _so much_ in Harry's life he might not like, or would just outright be repulsed by.

Kyōya eyed her seriously for a long moment, putting down fork and knife to pick up his wine glass.

"I am... committed, to this responsibility," he eventually said. "I don't know what it is you're worried about specifically, but I haven't gotten the feeling that you're the kind of person who I would want to keep a distance to."

Harry felt her lips twitch a fraction. "Diplomatic," she commented, pushing a piece of broccoli around her plate, before she lifted it to her mouth.

"It's a skill I've found to be very useful," Kyōya said, still just as diplomatically.

Harry snorted and then turned to something more light-hearted. "You realise we're gonna have to start thinking about names," she said with a small, slightly forced grin. "George, my older brother figure, likes to up come with more and more outlandish suggestions every time I see him now that I show a little. If I know him right, he will have convinced the rest of my friends to do the same when I see them all again."

She was very certain that she didn't want to name her child after one of Hagrid's 'adorable' pets, that was for sure. She loved the man, half-giant and all, but his naming-skills weren't his best feature.

She wasn't naming the child after George either. Or Georgina, whatever the case may be.

Kyōya smiled, a slight stretch of the lips, even as his eyes remained mostly serious as he regarded her intently.

"There's still plenty of time," he said.

The rest of the evening was very pleasant, all things considered, and Harry found out more about Kyōya's interests and a little about his family.

.

.

Returning to their hotel suite, Harry walked into their bedroom, grabbed her night things and then went to the bathroom to get read for bed.

She was exhausted.

The dress was beautiful, though, she mused once she had taken it off and put it on a hanger, smoothing a hand down the soft fabric. It didn't hurt that it was Gryffindor red. Burgundy, whatever.

With a tired sigh, Harry turned to the sink to brush her teeth, studying herself in the mirror. As was often the case, her gaze was drawn to the scar flashing across her face, like lightning intersecting the night sky for just a fraction of a second, only caught forever in that moment on the surface of her skin.

She wasn't beautiful, she was well aware of that.

Years of having been told so by Aunt Petunia and Dudley, her primary school classmates and then Draco Malfoy and his posse of fellow Slytherins at Hogwarts had merely reinforced the fact.

Her eyes might be pretty, and she had a few curves in the right places, but... a boy in her class in primary once told her that it looked like someone had carved up her face. And it had turned out he hadn't even been entirely wrong.

What was Kyōya really seeing in her?

She was a mess. Her history, her life.

With a deep sigh, Harry spat and rinsed her toothbrush, before putting it in the ceramic mug that stood on the bathroom sink for just that purpose. She picked up her dress and then wandered back out into the bedroom, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

After a brief pause, she hung it in the wardrobe and then crawled into bed.

Harry curled up under the cover, face half-buried in the pillow and placed both hands on her tiny baby bump.

She was too tired to be kept awake by her swirling thoughts. There was a day tomorrow, too.

.

.

Harry woke up slowly to the sound of another person's soft breaths.

She had a vague memory of waking briefly last night when Kyōya had walked into the room, but had fallen back asleep fast enough that there was little else.

It took a moment for her to realise just why she was so comfortable.

Harry was lying on her left side, a warm, solid mass wrapped around her from behind and she could feel every breath Kyōya took as he slept peacefully at her back.

It was so similar to waking that morning three months ago Harry felt hot just from the reminder.

They weren't naked this time, though. Harry had slept in her pyjamas, and she could at least feel that Kyōya was wearing soft trousers of some sort where she brushed against the fabric with her feet.

She was allowed to stay like this this time, right?

Biting her lip uncertainly, Harry burrowed deeper into her pillow, legs pulling up further towards her chest.

Kyōya took a deep breath behind her and tightened his grip on her, making her smile a bit unsteadily.

She didn't know how long she lay there, hardly moving as she simply listened to the man behind her breathe, letting his body-heat warm her.

When Kyōya stirred, murmuring drowsy words she couldn't understand into her hair, the light streaming in from outside through the large windows had brightened considerably.

She could tell when he finally woke properly, because he almost instantly loosened his grip on her and sat up, leaving her back feeling cold and lonely.

"Sorry. That's wasn't- I apologize," he said, sounding faintly embarrassed.

Harry made a noise that would hopefully make him realise that she understood, but didn't move.

The mattress dipped a little behind her when Kyōya supported his weight on one hand to lean over her to look at her face.

"Are you crying?" he asked, sounding worried, out of his depth and vaguely guilty. "I'm so sorry, if this happens again you can just-"

He had clearly gotten the wrong picture, so Harry cut him off with a wet laugh.

"Yes, I'm crying. I don't know why," she said, curling up into an even tighter ball. "Except I do," she added in a quiet voice, feeling pathetic and vulnerable and perfectly miserable. "I'm really scared."

"Why?" Kyōya questioned gently, slowly lying down again behind her, tentatively wrapping one arm around her waist.

"Because I'm really attracted to you, and I really want our child to have two parents," Harry laughed, pressing the heel of one hand against her eye. Before Kyōya could reply, she pressed on. "Because you're going to ask about going to my bank today, and I can't give you an honest answer before I tell you something that I'm terrified will make you leave before we can even try."

"I promised you we'd try," Kyōya said softly, slowly and tentatively pulling her closer to his chest, giving her plenty of time to voice a complaint. "I'm rather attracted to you as well, Harry, and I really don't think that's a problem."

Harry laughed again, even though it sounded more like a half-choked sob. "There are so many things you don't know about me."

"I know," Kyōya sighed, resting his cheek against her hair, his breath brushing the shell of her ear with every exhalation. "We're just going to have to try and take one thing at a time."

"You haven't even mentioned any of my scars," Harry sobbed weakly.

Part of her wanted to smack herself in the face, the rest just felt so overwhelmingly sad she didn't care about anything else.

One of Kyōya's hand slowly moved to trace up one of her forearms, fingertips sliding over the raised scar tissue.

"I figured it was a sensitive subject," he murmured.

"It is!" Harry laughed humourlessly, wiping at the wetness on her face. "I just- why are you so kind to me? All the time? You haven't even asked me to prove it's your baby."

Kyōya hummed pensively, tightening his grip on her as he pondered the questions, both spoken and left unsaid.

"Would you lie about something like that?"

" _No_! But that's not the point," Harry huffed, a sound that became a small hiccup.

"Harry, when you woke up in my bed three months ago," Kyouya began, sounding like he was squashing down a curious mix of embarrassed heat, discomfort and something that sounded curiously like guilt, "when you saw my hotel suite, what did you think?"

Harry was silent a long time, trying to calm herself down enough to actually think.

"I was surprised, and a bit overwhelmed and embarrassed. I was trying not to think about the looks the hotel personnel would give me on the way out and it was really difficult to leave," she finally answered in a trembling voice.

"And when you came to tell me," Kyōya continued, sounding a little strange, as if something had left him partly breathless. "You made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing more from me than a few minutes of my time. Even when I blatantly asked what you wanted in relation to your revelation."

Harry made a small sound of acknowledgement, rubbing at her eyes, even as she took a deep, unsteady breath.

"If you had been the kind of woman who was after things like money and fame, then that wouldn't be how you reacted in either of those situations."

Harry laughed bitterly. "I don't need either."

They were silent for the longest time, and Harry had managed to actually stop crying by the time Kyōya spoke again.

"Since you managed to track me down, I assume you found out about my status back home?"

"Sort of. It was a bit hard to understand, but you're rather well-known in certain circles in Japan?"

Kyōya made an amused sound in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through his chest into Harry back. "You could say that," he mused, before sighing. "My family owns several highly successful companies and are very wealthy, Harry. I'm used to people trying to take advantage of that, so you should trust me when I say I recognize the type on sight."

"Oh," Harry murmured, blinking a little. "I inherited a lot when I reached majority. I also inherited the wealth of my godfather's family when he died when I was fifteen. I have a _lot_ of money, Kyōya." The silence stretched out again, but it was less tense and loaded this time.

"Was that what you were scared to tell me?" Kyōya asked quietly a while later.

Harry shook her head with a sad smile. "No. I-" she hesitated. Was this really the best time? Would it be better to wait or get it over with?

She didn't know.

Harry took a deep breath and gently removed Kyōya's arm from her waist so that she could sit up. When she looked down on him, he stared right back at her, looking sleep-tousled but curiously expectant.

Biting her lip, Harry looked away to reach for the bedside table, where she picked up her wand where she had placed it so that it wouldn't be noticeable at first or even second glance but still be within easy reach.

Turning back to Kyōya, he gave it a curious once-over before returning his gaze to her eyes, waiting patiently.

Without a word, Harry slowly raised the wand between them, tip towards the ceiling and coaxed a few bright sparks into the air. Sparks that slowly blossomed into flowers of warm light and soft colours.

"What... is that," Kyōya said slowly, carefully easing himself into a sitting position, eyes transfixed on the light-show Harry was creating for him.

"Magic." Harry smiled a little, twitching her wand to draw all the lights together to make it look like a tree at the hight of autumn, leaves yellow, orange and red with a trunk that glowed like gold.

"There's no such thing as magic," Kyōya said absently, as if he was recounting the fact that the sky was blue, grass was green and water was wet.

"I didn't think so either, until I turned eleven and was invited to a magical school," Harry said quietly, cancelling the light show and instead conjuring a small golden retriever puppy. She lay her wand on the cover over her lap and ran a hand over the eager puppy's head.

"That's not possible," Kyōya breathed.

"It's not a real dog," Harry explained, not looking at him as she focused entirely on the puppy licking her fingers. "It's a construct made of magic. If I leave it like this, it will return to its true nature once enough time has passed." She slid her fingers under the pup, carefully positioning her hands under his front legs, around the ribcage and lifting him up. "Right now, in all the ways that truly matter, he's a puppy, though."

"What," Kyōya paused for the longest time, and when Harry chanced a glance at him, he was staring unblinkingly at her. "What does that make you?"

She smiled humourlessly. "I'm a witch." When that didn't make Kyōya run screaming for the door, she took a deep breath and continued. "There's a whole community hidden, separate from the normal, mundane world that you know. The witch hunts and the persecutions were all very real to us back in the days, and the witches and wizards of the time decided to... fade into the background, become nothing more than myth and legend. It was very successful, evidently, and there are laws that prevent people from just blurting the truth to anyone they want to."

Kyōya looked like speech was still eluding him, so Harry continued, talking in a voice that felt far too calm to reflect her inner turbulence.

"I had no idea about magic when I grew up, but both my parents were magical, two of my grandparents, my godfather, all their friends... It turned out that I was part of a family with ancient roots in magic." She laughed a little, helplessly. "And then I met you, got pregnant, and this child will most likely turn out to be magical too, and I need to know if you'll be able to accept that," she finished, meeting Kyōya's wide, wide eyes.

Things were silent for a heartbeat.

"I'll give you some time to think, but I want you to know that I will answer whatever questions you may want to ask to the best of my abilities," she paused, to make sure he'd heard her. "If it turns out this is something you can't-" she cut herself off, "then I'll be gone and leave you alone like I promised."

And with that, Harry slipped out of bed, picked up her wand to vanish the puppy and got a change of clothes from her bag before she left the bedroom for the sitting room.

Kyōya still hadn't said a word when she closed the door behind her.

-x-x-x-

 


	5. The Questions, and the Answers

Getting properly dressed had taken virtually no time at all, and since then, Harry had been sitting in one of the soft sofas, curled up with her chin resting on her knees and arms wrapped around her legs.

Hours passed, and Harry simply stared into the heavy silence.

She supposed it was better to break it off sooner rather than later if that was what Kyōya would end up wanting. Best not to let herself fall in love and end up with a broken heart on top of everything else.

The distant, muffled sound of the shower turning on reached her ears and Harry buried her face in her knees.

She didn't want to acknowledge that it might be a bit too late to avoid that broken heart.

She wasn't _quite_ in love with the man, but she was at least half-way there. Which was just ridiculous, because Harry had known him for less than two weeks.

"Stupid hormones," she whispered into her legs and ignored the wetness seeping into the cloth beneath her eyes.

She was starting to get hungry, but Harry didn't feel like leaving her spot on the sofa. She didn't particularly feel like eating right now anyway, despite the gnawing emptiness in her stomach.

When the shower eventually turned off, Harry still hadn't moved.

It took a long time, and she could hear faint sounds of Kyōya moving about in the bedroom, but then the doors finally opened.

Harry tilted her head to the side to glance at a still rather pale-faced Kyōya, but she didn't lift her head from her knees.

Kyōya took one look at her and let out a heavy sigh, before slowly approaching.

Harry closed her eyes when he sank down to sit next to her.

This was it. He would tell her to get her things and leave. He'd no doubt be polite about it, but it would still hurt and make her miserable. _More_ miserable, she corrected herself bleakly.

"Harry," Kyōya sighed her name, a hand tentatively touching her left shoulder.

Harry tensed, before raising her face the slightest bit from her knees to stare at him, growing trepidation drowning out all other emotions crowding in her chest.

She didn't say anything, because then she might end up saying something stupid and she didn't want to influence the man like that. He had to choose for himself.

Harry refused to force anyone to do anything like this.

She did meet his gaze, though, no matter how much it pained her.

Kyōya took a deep breath. "I don't really have any idea how to deal with," he paused, gesturing vaguely with one hand, "any of this. All of it," he said. "And this magic thing was, I'm not gonna lie to you, a big shock." He was silent for a while, looking lost in thought and pensive. "I'm usually much more prepared," he whispered, as if to himself. "I can't promise that I will understand everything, or even react all that well, but I still want to try."

Kyōya carefully met her gaze, looking uncertain and worried.

Harry burst into tears.

The man next to her made an alarmed sound and nearly jerked away from her, before his brain kicked back in and he tentatively pulled her into a loose embrace.

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed, scrubbing at her face with one hand. "I just- I thought you'd ask me to leave."

"Giving up after barely a week? You obviously don't know me well enough yet," Kyōya responded dryly, resting his chin on the top of her head. The slight tremor in his hands belied his calm facade.

Harry laughed a little and slowly calmed down. "I'm very hormonal," she said apologetically when she'd managed to stop crying entirely.

"You warned me about that already," Kyōya chuckled. "And that's alright," he sighed, one hand slowly rubbing up and down her back soothingly.

"Did you have any questions?" Harry asked after a long stretch of silence that was far more relaxed and comfortable than the rest of the day had been so far.

"I have so many questions I don't even know where to start," Kyōya admitted wryly, slowly letting go of Harry so that he could look at her properly. "I don't even know what magic _is_."

"Magic is..." Harry frowned. "Energy, I suppose? I don't know enough about the theory behind magic to give you a proper answer, but my friend might, once you meet her."

"Okay," Kyōya sighed, settling back on the sofa for a long conversation. "Tell me, what is it that determines if you get magic or not? What makes you think the baby will have it?"

"Part of it is genetics," Harry said. "There _are_ children born to magical families that don't have magic, though it's rare. On the other side of the scale, there are muggleborns; children born to magic-less parents who have magic of their own. Hermione, my friend, is one of them," she explained, hoping that would answer at least part of his question. "Magic isn't _just_ an energy, though," Harry slowly added. "In my experience, it's almost sentient."

"Like a higher being?" Kyōya asked a bit disbelieving.

"No." Harry shook her head. "It's not aware like a person, like you and me, it's just..." She sighed. Why was this so hard to put into words? "Look, you can do amazing things with magic, perform what normal people would call wonders and miracles, but there's also magic that fall on the opposite end of the scale," Harry said frankly. "And even when you use magic you think you understand, it can sometimes do things that are entirely unexpected; in both good and bad ways, that you never had a way to predict."

Kyōya was frowning in thought, but looked like that was a good enough explanation, for now, and asked his next question.

"The things you did in there," he said, nodding towards the bedroom. "How difficult are they?"

Harry smiled a little. "The light sparks are something you hardly need to learn how to produce, but shaping them can be fairly tricky. The puppy's rather advanced, though." After which she launched into a quick explanation about the different subjects she'd been taught in school.

They took plenty of breaks in the course of the day, bathroom breaks, to make snacks, Kyōya ordered up room-service, even more bathroom breaks, but they spent the entire day inside, talking.

By the time they went to bed late in the evening, Kyōya felt far more grounded, and a bit more secure now that he had at least a basic understanding of what magic was and how the magical world worked.

Harry, on her end, hardly had time to reflect on anything before she was asleep, exhausted after the emotional roller-coaster the day had taken her on.

.

.

The next morning started off much in the same way the day before had, though far better in the emotional department.

Kyōya seemed to be a very cuddly sleeper, Harry mused as she shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

"Morning," Kyōya mumbled some time later, no doubt having been roused by Harry's incessant moving. "Feeling alright today?" he asked, blinking blearily at her.

"Just peachy," Harry answered on a sigh. Her lower abdomen was aching a bit, which was why she couldn't seem to lie still for more than a minute before she had to shift again. "Sorry to have woken you," she said.

It was still mostly dark out when she glanced at the windows.

"'S fine," Kyōya mumbled, sounding like he was half-way back to sleep again.

Harry laughed a little. "Go back to sleep; I'm taking a shower," she whispered, before untangling herself from Kyōya's arms and slipping out of bed.

When she was done, Harry got dressed, walked silently through the bedroom and out into the sitting room, where she went to the fridge to make herself something to eat.

She had never thought raw potatoes could be considered delicious, but she could honestly say she hadn't ever thought about it in her life. Or raw broccoli.

Snorting at herself, even as she prepared her pre-breakfast snack, Harry was glad she could use her wand to peel, cut up and place the vegetables on a plate without having to worry about Kyouya walking in on her and freaking out.

Especially since their hotel suite didn't have a kitchen.

Plopping herself down on one of the sofas -much like yesterday- Harry eyed the large TV sitting off to the side, even as she was munching on a crispy raw potato slice.

Picking up the remote lying innocuously on the coffee table, Harry turned the machine on, quickly turning down the volume.

She hadn't watched TV in years, never mind that she hadn't been able to chose the channel herself when she'd been with the Dursleys. Vernon had always seemed convinced that Harry would, somehow, end up exploding the TV if she so much as _touched_ the remote control.

For about an hour, Harry was fairly entertained by the children's show she'd found. It was all cheerful colours and light-hearted fun, and she didn't care that it wasn't intended for adults; she could use some childish fun in her life.

In combination with her plate of snacks, she was fairly content.

By the time Kyōya came wandering out of the bedroom, Harry was smiling at the ridiculously colourful characters acting out some sort of quest. With a heavy sigh, the man collapsed onto the sofa next to her, one arm automatically coming to rest on the backrest behind her, fingers just about brushing her shoulder.

”What are we watching?”

”I have no idea, but their self-imposed mission has been blown entirely out of proportion,” Harry replied amusedly. ”I still haven't figured out what it is, but I blame that on the language barrier.”

Kyōya snorted, sinking deeper into the soft cushions, going almost boneless.

They watched the end of the show, and once the credits started rolling, Harry turned off the TV, turning to look at the man.

”Kyōya?” she asked tentatively.

”Hm?” Kyouya's gaze shifted to meet hers.

Harry absently ran her fingers over her stomach as she considered how to phrase this. ”Are you at all interested in a romantic relationship with me, or do you just want to be friends?” she finally asked.

She just wanted to know what to expect.

She hated second-guessing herself, and since she'd gotten pregnant, she found herself doing it all the damn time. As if she just couldn't help herself.

Kyōya remained silent, eyeing her for a long few seconds where Harry did her best not to fidget. Then, he let out a soft sigh and straightened up.

Moving slowly and deliberately, maintaining eye-contact, Kyōya's hand slid down more firmly onto her shoulder, before dragging up to cradle the side of her neck. At the same time, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Harry's in a slow, unhurried kiss.

After the initial surprise, Harry tilted her head to slot them together more comfortably and leaned against Kyōya's side.

Harry sort of lost track of time for a while.

“Did that answer your question?” Kyōya murmured against her lips when he finally broke off the kiss, sounding a little bit breathless.

Harry hummed, eyes still closed and feeling calmer than she'd done in days. “I think so.” She smiled.

And then she had to get up for a bathroom break.

When she came back, Kyōya looked more awake, and she wouldn't be surprised to learn he'd ordered up breakfast for them while she'd been gone.

“Do you still want to go to your bank?” the man asked once she'd settled back down on the sofa.

Harry nodded. “Yes, and I'd like it if you came with me, but you don't have to,” she said calmly.

Kyōya was still digesting a lot, and she didn't want to heap even more on his plate unless he was prepared for it.

“It's got to do with the magic thing,” he surmised evenly.

Harry smiled a little wryly. “There is very little in my life that doesn't deal with 'the magic thing',” she told him frankly.

Seriously, there'd been a prophecy about her before she'd been so much as born; magic was a very much integrated part of her life.

Kyōya tilted his head as he considered that. “Walk me through it,” he requested simply.

“It's a magic bank situated in the middle of the local magical district,” she began succinctly. “It's not run by humans,” she added, because that was important.

Kyōya blinked, a strange look on his face for a second, before it was replaced by a look of dry amusement. “Of course it's not,” he muttered under his breath.

Harry smiled thinly and continued. “It's run by dwarves, and one of them, Spearhand, is my personal account manager,” she paused for a moment, to let him digest. “I want to go there mostly to update my will, and make sure there are foolproof plans in place for the baby,” she told him simply.

_Her_ child wasn't going to be sent off to live with Petunia and Vernon Dursley if anything happened to her, that was damn sure.

Kyōya blinked, but nodded readily enough. “You've thought about this a lot,” he guessed.

“I lost my parents very young, Kyōya,” she told him quietly. “And my parents' wishes didn't get a chance to be carried out, due to unfortunate and rather tragic circumstances. I don't want anything like that to happen, if worse comes to worst.”

“Understandable,” Kyōya said evenly, and after a slight hesitation, took her hand in his.

“I was going to write down my two best friends as godparents, but,” she bit her lip, feeling like her stomach was flipping a little at the thought, “do you want to add someone?” she offered tentatively.

Kyōya stilled. As if he hadn't expected to hear anything of the sort.

He sent her a slightly wide-eyed look.

“Not- Not that I can think of,” he said quietly.

Harry nodded. “Okay. I was considering adding a third godparent anyway; I have a friend that's just perfect for the job.” She smiled thinly.

If anything ever happened to Hermione and Ron -God and Merlin and every power that be forbid- Neville would make a wonderful parent, who would do anything and everything in his power to protect, provide and love the child growing in her womb.

“You're taking this very seriously.”

“Yes.” Harry nodded.

Because it wasn't like she didn't have a pretty good idea of what it was like to grow up without family, without love, and she _never_ wanted that for any child. Not her own, or anyone else's.

.

.

They ended up waiting another few days before seeking out the Zürich magical district.

Kyōya had asked if he could take her on another few dates, which Harry hadn't been at all adverse to, and by the time the two of them finally got ready for their first magical outing, almost a week had passed since their arrival.

“Where are we going? Should I call my driver?” Kyōya asked, and while he didn't _sound_ nervous, Harry could tell he was affected by the expectations and trepidation of the unknown.

“Lindenhof, so he can drive us part of the way. I hope you don't mind a bit of a walk.” Harry smiled. She was looking forward to it, herself. “And remember to leave all electronics here,” she added, because they'd definitely fry from all the magic in the air where they were going.

Thankfully, she'd already had that conversation with Kyōya, so he knew the reason behind her request.

Soon enough, they were on their way, both dressed for the chilly weather; Zurich was cold in January.

Harry waved the driver a cheerful goodbye and then set down the sort of familiar streets.

“You realise I have no idea what to expect,” Kyōya told her idly a few minutes later.

“Yes.” Harry grinned, sending him an amused look. “It's a bit of a tradition; to let people see for themselves.”

Harry could still remember her own wide-eyed wonder at seeing Diagon Alley the first time when she was eleven.

Drawing nearer to their goal, Harry reached out to twine her fingers with Kyōya's, taking a firm hold of the man's hand. Partly because of the magic protecting the entrance from discovery by Muggles, but mostly because she wanted to.

Kyōya didn't say anything, but tugged her a bit closer.

It felt far more like a date than the official, important errand it actually was.

Harry stepped confidently into the rather simplistic park at the top of the hill, guiding Kyōya in the direction they'd have to go. She'd only been to Zurich twice before, but this was already her favourite entrance to the magical district.

Kyōya didn't say anything while they strolled through the park, sharing the space with a few locals and the occasional tourist, but Harry could tell he was growing a bit impatient and he probably couldn't see the point of walking through this park that didn't seem the slightest bit magical.

Harry smiled and tugged him down a path he probably hadn't noticed, protected by subtle security wards as it was.

There were no non-magical tourists down here, and the few modern touches were becoming non-existent the further they walked.

Kyōya seemed slightly tense, and Harry wondered if that was because of nerves, or because some part of him could feel the air humming with latent magic.

Soon enough, they were walking up to the ancient-looking archway the seemingly led into an overgrown ruin.

Harry tightened her hold on Kyōya and pulled him with her through the arch.

The moment they were on the other side, it was clear that they were in a well-tended garden, rather than an old ruin, and the building in front of them seemed to have popped up out of nowhere.

Kyōya certainly startled when his gaze fell on it.

“Come on,” Harry told him with a smile, leading him on up to the door.

The inn, the Sleeping Dragon, was nicer than the Leaky Cauldron, but looked just as Medieval. Inns and pubs seemed to be a preference as gateways into magical communities, and Harry supposed it was the glaringly obvious business opportunity. As well as the fact that they were occupied at all hours, so no one could wander in on accident -small as the chance was- without attracting some attention.

Ignoring the woman working behind the counter, and the few customers seated at the tables eating lunch, Harry walked confidently across the room to the back door.

When she glanced at Kyōya, he was glancing around with rapt attention, seemingly doing his best to take in this new setting.

His gaze lingered on the man in the corner wearing the dark, heavy cloak that hid his features.

He didn't get a chance to ask about it, because the moment they stepped out the door, they found themselves on a street that looked like it came straight out of the Dark Ages.

Cobbled and cluttered, the street wound it's way in both directions from the Sleeping Dragon, bustling with people. Most of whom were dressed very differently from Harry and Kyōya.

Harry watched the man stare wide-eyed at the place, trying to take in everything there was to see.

“I feel like I've accidentally travelled back in time,” he finally muttered, gaze lingering on a pair of Goblins walking down the street on the other side of the cobbled alley.

Harry gave the two of them a casual once-over, but they didn't look like they were out for trouble.

“Which isn't very strange; most magicals are a bit stuck in the Dark Ages.” She grinned, squeezing Kyōya's fingers gently.

His hold on her hand tightened and he took a deep breath. “The bank?” he asked.

Harry nodded and set down the street in the direction of Dwarrowhold.

Like Gringotts, Dwarrowhold was a large, impressive building, but it was built more for practicality and intimidation than to be overwhelmingly beautiful like the Goblin bank. Harry personally believed that was because Goblins got an immense sense of pleasure out of rubbing their wealth in Wizards' faces.

Regardless, Dwarrowhold looked more like a small fortress, like a piece of the regal mountains surrounding Zurich brought into the middle of the quaint, thatched houses and buildings around it.

Harry strode in with no hesitation, holding her head high.

She noted Kyōya adapting a similar posture out of the corner of her eye and had to bite back a smile.

Dwarves were both easier and trickier to deal with than Goblins, but at least they weren't as... openly hostile.

You'd regret it if you offended one, though.

Harry walked up to one of the counters and waited for the elderly dwarf behind it to acknowledge her.

“Yes?” he finally said, looking up from whatever he'd been working on and smoothing a broad hand down his impressive, grey beard.

“Harriet Potter here to speak with Spearhand,” she told him calmly.

The dwarf's brown eyes flicked to Kyōya briefly before he nodded and pressed a finger to what Harry suspected was a combination of runes etched into the wood of his work-space.

They didn't have to wait very long.

“Ah, Lady Siegreich,” a familiar, stocky figure greeted with a pleasant smile just barely visible beneath his dark blond beard and moustache.

“Spearhand.” Harry smiled and walked up to him to clasp hands. “I'm sorry to show up unannounced-”

“Never mind that.” Spearhand waved her apology off gruffly. “We both know you have good cause,” he said with a fierce glint in his eyes.

The dwarf was tall enough that the top of his head reached her to the chin, and Harry wasn't particularly tall. He had dark blond hair which had been pulled back into a thick braid that reached the middle of his back, with plenty of pearls made of both precious metals and gems woven into the thick strands.

His beard had been carefully styled and decorated in a similar manner.

“If we could discuss my business somewhere private?” she requested evenly, Spearhand nodding along to her words.

“Of course, Lady Siegreich, of course. Let's relocate to my office.” And he readily led them off down the closest corridor.

Harry made sure to catch Kyōya's hand in hers again before she made to follow the dwarf.

Spearhand's office was very nice and comfortable, with a large wooden desk and stuffed chairs in front of it. There was a fire in the impressive hearth warming up the room further.

The most impressive feature, however, was the artwork carved into the stone walls. Depicting battle-scenes and historical accomplishments of his people.

“Now, what business do you have for me today, Lady Potter?” the Dwarf asked bluntly once the three of them had settled around his desk.

If Kyōya was at all affected by the title, then he showed no outward sign of it.

“I'd like to update my will,” Harry said without preamble. “I'll be a mother in a few months, and I want everything to be in indisputable order in case of emergency.”

Spearhand nodded thoughtfully, not so much as phased by the revelation. Which was part of the reason Harry was so much happier to do her banking here rather than at Gringotts, the long distance be damned.

“What changes would you like to add?” he asked briskly, pulling a fresh parchment from one of his drawers and picked up a quill.

“I want them added as my official Heir,” Harry began, pressing her hand to her growing baby bump. “And I want it noted down in no uncertain terms that should anything happen to me, custody shall fall to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and in case they're unavailable, Neville Longbottom.”

Spearhand nodded as he jotted it all down. “And the sire?” he asked, looking up to flick a glance at Kyōya.

“My chosen godparents will make sure he's involved however much he desires,” Harry said evenly, squeezing Kyōya's hand in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

The dwarf hummed a little, studying the two of them before focusing fully on Harry. “I'll draw up a new will for you,” he tapped a finger on his notes. “Anything else I can help you with today?”

The way he said it made it clear to Harry there was something he wanted to say or ask.

“You know I always appreciate it when you're frank with me, Spearhand,” she told her manager, who nodded with a pleased smile.

“Which never ceases to be refreshing, Siegreich,” he shot back. “I'd like to ask if you want me to draw up a marriage contract in the near future.”

Harry eyed the dwarf for a long moment, letting his words sink in.

She hadn't actually had a thought about _marriage_ , of all things, when she had agreed to go on this trip with Kyōya, but glancing briefly at the man, it was easy to see he wasn't surprised or anywhere near shocked by the words.

Harry tilted her head in thought.

“I'll come back to you on that,” she finally said, shooting Kyōya another look.

“Very well. Give me a couple of days and I'll have everything ready for your initial inspection, Siegreich, along with your financial report.”

“Thank you, Spearhand,” Harry said with a small sigh.

That had been less painful than she had feared. The Goblins would have dragged it out and tried to play it to their advantage, she suspected.

“If that was all, I'll get to work,” Spearhand said briskly, rising to his feet.

Harry mirrored him with a nod. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Spearhand. We'll see ourselves out.”

Dwarrowhold's public level was very easy to navigate. When you were leaving. So Spearhand merely gave her a shallow nod in farewell and then resumed his seat behind his desk.

Harry and Kyōya didn't speak until they were back outside, blinking in the sunlight.

“That was interesting,” the man finally said, giving her an intent, curious look.

“It was quicker than I had imagined, actually,” she mused, absently tracing the curve of her stomach with her free hand. “Well. Would you like to walk around and explore a bit?”

“I wouldn't be adverse to look around, no,” Kyōya said slowly, blinking and turning to study their surroundings again. “Is there any literature I could read? An introduction to this magic business?” he asked interestedly when they'd started walking.

Harry hummed. “There might be. I don't know how much they'd have in English around here, but we can certainly check.” And she steered them in the direction she was fairly sure she'd seen a book shop in.

.

Two days later, they were back at the bank to look over Harry's updated will.

“Everything look to be in order?” Spearhand inquired calmly, looking rather pleased with himself.

Harry read through the latest additions and nodded with a slowly growing smile. “Excellent job, as always,” she praised.

When she was done, she passed the thick, official-looking parchment to Kyōya, who looked surprised at the action but accepted it readily enough.

Harry watched him read through it with a small measure of curiosity. What would he think of it, she wondered?

Her will was rather extensive for someone her age, but all of her friends -and Spearhand- had agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry. She'd discovered that there were quite a few businesses and properties in her name, once she'd gotten around to sort out the... _disagreement_ with the Goblins and finally got a chance to access the entirety of her inheritance. Both from the Potter line and the Black one.

She'd been a smidge overwhelmed.

Still was, when she stopped to really think about it, to be honest.

When he was done, Kyōya handed the document back with a slow blink and a measured look on his handsome face.

With a small sigh, Harry figure they'd end up having yet another serious conversation when they got back to the hotel.

“Are you hungry?” she asked when they'd wrapped up everything with Spearhand and exited the bank, walking unhurriedly back in the direction of the Sleeping Dragon.

“I wouldn't mind getting a bite to eat,” Kyōya replied absently, before he shot her a look. “You're hungry?”

“Yes,” Harry sighed. “Again.”

Kyōya smiled faintly. “Want to eat here or find a place on the way back to the hotel?”

“Will you insist on going somewhere ridiculously expensive again?” Harry asked teasingly, smiling tiredly.

She actually wouldn't mind a nap.

Kyōya hummed and eyed her a moment. “Or we could go straight back to the hotel and order room-service and then go out tonight instead,” he offered.

“That sounds nice,” Harry agreed around a yawn. “I don't know why I got so tired, all of a sudden,” she grumbled a little.

Kyōya pulled her closer to him and slung an arm over her shoulders, all the while watching her closely to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable. “You've been a bit tense the last few days.” He shrugged.

Harry huffed out a small laugh, but didn't disagree.

She managed to stay awake all the way back to the hotel, but the moment they reached their rooms, Harry slipped off into the bedroom and fell asleep almost the moment she lied down. She was vaguely aware of Kyōya spreading a blanket over her.

Waking up to the now familiar sound of Kyōya typing on his computer, Harry shifted and stretched a bit before she pressed her face more firmly into her pillow.

She was still tired.

The soft clicking of keys stopped and it sounded like Kyōya put his laptop on the bedside table. The shifting of the mattress confirmed her assumption, and then there was a large, warm hand on her shoulder.

“Harry?” Kyōya asked quietly.

“Mm?” Harry returned sleepily, still with her eyes closed.

“Would it be alright if I asked a few questions?” he asked carefully, every word measured and deliberate.

“Of course,” Harry sighed and pried her eyes open. After a brief pause, she shuffled around so that she was facing Kyōya, rather than have her back to him. “Ask away.”

Kyōya smiled a little before his expression turned serious. “They're rather personal in nature,” he warned.

Harry waved a hand negligently between them. “Having a child together is personal. Ask.”

Kyōya nodded. “I was wondering about your will,” he began evenly. Which didn't surprise Harry in the least. “It mentioned quite a few estates,” he began leadingly, clearly leaving it up to her whether she wanted to answer or not.

“My father was the only heir to a very old, well-off family, and I inherited it all when I turned seventeen,” Harry began, closing her eyes again and thinking over what she'd have to share. “I inherited even more from my godfather, whose family was even richer.” Her lips twisted into something that vaguely resembled a smile.

“Where you also got your titles,” Kyōya surmised quietly.

Harry snorted. “Yeah. Lady Potter and Black, at your service.” She shook her head a little. She didn't feel like a _Lady_.

She'd known this conversation was coming ever since they'd first visited Dwarrowhold two days ago. Kyōya had been rather pensive ever since.

“Harry, you can't be that far from my own age,” Kyōya said, sliding down until he was lying beside her, giving her a searching look. “Why the will?”

She smiled sadly, watching Kyōya reach out to take her hand and intertwine their fingers.

“When my parents died, things were a right mess in Britain,” she began slowly, watching Kyōya play absently with her fingers. “Things are better now, but-” She bit her lip.

Was this the time? They'd been here in Zurich for a week and a half now, and she'd already dumped the magic revelation on him, which he'd taken admirably well.

But telling him about the war... Kyōya was from a well-off family, who undoubtedly hadn't had any experiences with anything even slightly similar.

It was honestly amazing that she hadn't had much in the way of nightmares since she got here.

“There was a civil war,” she began slowly, frowning down at her and Kyōya's entwined fingers, rubbing her thumb over the man's knuckles. “Led by a man who believed that having magic made you _more_ than everyone else around you, that it gave you permission to take and destroy whatever you wanted.” She glanced up to meet Kyōya's gaze. “He killed a lot of people,” she said quietly.

Kyōya was silent, letting her talk.

“You have to understand, that however amazing magic is, it's wielded by _people_ , and like with everything else, what people do with their abilities and skills is entirely up to them.” She smiled thinly. “His name was Tom,” she said after a slight pause. “He gained a lot of followers for his cause and terrorized Magical Britain for almost ten years before he was temporarily put out of business.” She rolled her eyes a little. Never mind how patient and understanding Kyōya had been, she doubted he'd take it well if she told him there were ways to avoid death. No matter how horrifying they were. “He came back into power when I was fourteen and we had three years of war until he was permanently put down.” She was silent for a little while. “And that's why I need the will.”

“But the unrest is over now?” Kyōya inquired after a long pause, absorbing her latest revelation.

“Mostly.” Harry nodded tiredly.

Damn, had she really just woken from a nap? She already felt exhausted.

Kyōya hummed. “You are full of surprises, Harry,” he said idly.

She snorted and shuffled closer to the man, pulling his hand down and bringing it to her stomach. “Not so full there's not room for anything else,” she said lightly, watching Kyōya's attention drift down to his hand.

“It's bigger now,” he commented softly.

Harry hummed, placing her hand over Kyōya's. “It's like I can _feel_ it grow,” she murmured.

Her lower abdomen ached more than not these days, and she knew -from her reading- that it was because her uterus was stretching to accommodate the growing baby. Rearranging things.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, rubbing gently at her skin with his fingers.

“Not too badly,” Harry sighed softly. “That feels really nice.”

Kyōya shifted a bit so that he was lying on his side. He kept rubbing gently at her stomach, like a very light massage. When he nudged her, she obligingly rolled over on her back.

Harry closed her eyes and relaxed, happy to let him explore her baby bump to his heart's content.

Kyōya smoothed his hand up and down her lower stomach, following the curve of it and applying just the right amount of pressure for it to be pleasant, rather than just a light caress. Every now and then, he'd drag his hand across from one hip bone to the other.

She didn't open her eyes until Kyōya brought his hand up so that the tips of his fingers rested on her diaphragm.

Kyōya was staring intently at her face, as if he was trying to figure something obscure and complicated out by reading it on her skin.

“What?” she wondered drowsily, feeling boneless and relaxed.

“Why did you leave with me, when we met in that club?” he asked, out of the blue.

Harry blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her head to answer the question properly. After she'd wrapped her head around it.

“The club?” she repeated in a murmur.

“Yes, the club,” Kyōya didn't waver in his stare, or look like he'd get impatient of waiting for her answer any time soon.

Harry rubbed absently at one eye as she thought it over.

Why had she gone with him from the club?

“Because you were interesting,” she finally said. “When you looked at me I felt you actually _saw me_. And that was on top of the physical attraction and the chemistry we've got going.” She smiled a little.

Kyōya's lips twitched. “I spotted you dancing with your friends, and I spent more than an hour convincing my business associated to go enjoy the night-life so that I could slip off to talk to you,” he confessed, the hand on her stomach feeling warm and steady where it rested on her skin.

“I walked into you,” Harry mused, feeling partly amused and partly embarrassed by his words. “Where you trying to spill your drink on me?” she asked, the thought popping into her head.

“I would never. A slight miscalculation on my part, that's all,” Kyōya refuted with calm poise, somehow managing to come across as calculating and dignified even while lying down on his side on the bed with her, all relaxed and with slightly rumpled clothes.

She couldn't help but laugh quietly. “I can't even remember what it was we were talking about, I just know I liked your mind,” she hummed.

“Politics,” Kyōya told her amusedly. “And morals.”

Harry blinked. Well, that didn't particularly sound like something that belonged in the setting they'd met, but... why not? It wasn't like they were doing everything else in the right order or by the book. So to speak.

“Huh.”

“You're a remarkable woman, Harry,” Kyōya said, looking pretty content where he lay beside her.

Harry peered at him a moment, and then leaned forward to press her lips against his.

Kyōya made a small, surprised sound, but readily enough responded to the kiss.

It was chaste and simple, but Harry felt like something in her chest loosened and relaxed and she moved closer to Kyōya's body. Close enough she could lean against him.

She gave a happy sigh when he wrapped his arms around her in a loose embrace.

It was exactly what she needed, and frankly, far more than she had expected going into this.

Harry pressed her face into Kyōya's shoulder and fell asleep.

-x-x-x-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter, after this, seeing as it hasn't been all written yet. :)  
> Thank you to everyone who's read so far, and doubly thank you to those who've left me comments!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Was Looking For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748956) by [worldtravellingfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldtravellingfly/pseuds/worldtravellingfly)




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